


everybody wants to rule the world

by bevioletskies



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Royalty, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-02-07 12:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 109,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: Peter is the one and only heir to the Celestial throne. Gamora is expected to successfully lead the Titans to conquer the galaxy. A political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.Alternately: Peter and Gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both Thanos and Ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. Also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because Yondu took Peter to Ego after all. More tags to be added as more chapters get posted!
> 
> Fic title and chapter summaries are from the song [Everybody Wants To Rule The World](https://open.spotify.com/track/4RvWPyQ5RL0ao9LPZeSouE) by Tears For Fears.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Welcome to your life…there’s no turning back…_

“This is possibly the _worst_ idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” With a dramatic groan, Peter threw himself down onto his mattress like a ragdoll, limbs sprawled out far enough that he could almost touch all the corners of his enormous four-poster bed. “And I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve had some pretty bad ones myself.”

“At least you’re acknowledgin’ it. And maybe ol’ Ego’s doing you a favor. Not like any girl’s gonna wanna marry you of her own free will,” Yondu teased. He leaned over Peter’s motionless form and gently poked him in the gut with the back end of his yaka arrow. “Quit whinin’, boy, you don’t even know what she’s like yet.”

“It don’t matter what she’s like,” Peter mumbled. His voice was muffled by the mountain of gold-fringed pillows he was currently face-planted in. Ego sure did have an affinity for decorating every square inch of everything - _ever_ \- in gold. Even Peter wasn’t this ostentatious. “She could be the most _amazing_ woman in the entire galaxy, and I’d still hate this. I mean, what is this, the medieval ages? Do I have to joust some other dudes to win her hand or somethin’? Because from what I’ve heard about her, I think she’d rather kick _my_ ass instead.”

“I understand just about none of what came outta your mouth just now.” Yondu sat at the foot of the bed, resting a hand on Peter’s ankle in sympathy, then immediately regretting it when he noticed Peter was entirely barefoot. “But you gotta suck it up, Quill. You fight your daddy on this, he gonna string you up like vermin, get you with that ‘light’ of his. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

Peter turned slowly, propping himself up on his elbow. “D’you...do you think he’d make Mantis do it instead if I didn’t?” He sat up very suddenly, wrapping his arms around his knees, staring off listlessly into the distance. All he could see was his sweet, upbeat little sister, being forced into something she wouldn’t be able to escape, all because he decided to be a little selfish. No, he couldn’t afford to let that happen. Not to her. “Crap. I really _do_ have to do this, don’t I?”

“If you’re asking me as your advisor, I’m telling ya, marrying this girl means an alliance with the Titans, and that’s a good thing. Get some of _the_ most powerful forces in the entire galaxy on our side.” Yondu let out a slow exhale, shooting Peter a rueful smile. “If you’re asking me as your friend, I’m tellin’ you, now’s not the time to argue. Pick your battles, boy. In due time, we’ll be able to get you offa this cursed planet for good.” He grinned wider in what Peter suspected was meant to be in reassurance - though his gold teeth were only adding to the garish decor of Peter’s quarters - before standing and striding over to the door. As he was leaving, he turned to call, “Your girl’s gonna be here in two days, alright? So buck up! Maybe she’ll be more interesting than ya think.”

* * *

“Do you know why I’ve called you here, Gamora?”

Her dark eyes fixated on the back of the makeshift throne, zeroed in on the crevice by the crease of his elbow, a sight she had become so accustomed to that it was practically burned into her eyelids. “No, Father. Do enlighten me.”

“You watch your tone with me, girl, or you’ll force my hand.” The throne slowly began to rotate, the shadows moving across Thanos’s face to partially conceal the near-permanent scowl he was currently sporting. She flinched a little at the sight of the Infinity Gauntlet, fingers tapping idly on the armrest as if it were nothing more than a common glove. “It has been a long time coming, but we have finally made an agreement with the Celestials. You will be descending upon Ego in two days.”

“And what task do you have for me this time? And who will be accompanying me? My last job under Ronan did not end so well, through no fault of my own,” she added, folding her hands neatly behind her back, fingers intertwined. She hoped he couldn’t detect the way they were trembling. _Shoulders back, chin up_ , she mentally reminded herself, as Thanos finally came into full view.

“Ronan was unworthy of calling himself an accomplice of mine. A subordinate, maybe. _Vermin_ , more like. I had him taken care of,” he replied, grinning rather maniacally, though his eyes remained as coldly emotionless as ever. “Your task, Gamora, is to wed the Celestial prince.”

Gamora blinked. She wasn’t sure how else to respond. Had she fallen through some sort of wormhole and not noticed? Stepped into an alternate dimension, perhaps? “I apologize, Father, but I believe I’ve misheard you,” she said slowly. “You want me to _what?_ ”

“Ego believes we have the completed Infinity Gauntlet, and I’m not about to correct him,” Thanos continued as if he hadn’t heard her. He held up his arm, turning his wrist slowly as if to admire the artifact, despite the fact it was currently empty. “And his Celestial abilities...they intrigue me. But we have never been able to come to terms until now, when we agreed on your marriage to his son. His _only_ son, with Celestial abilities of his own, I might add. We’ll work together in the beginning, of course, so I can observe what he can do and how to dismantle him. Then, you and Nebula will slaughter Ego, and force the son to use his powers for _our_ means.”

“There must be another way to do this,” Gamora protested, abandoning all pretense of her posture, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Why _marriage?_ How could a wedding possibly benefit us? Am I not meant for more than this, Father? This seems below me...below _everything_ you have prepared me for.”

“You think so little of marriage, do you?” Thanos sneered, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. For a moment, she felt like a small child again, thoroughly chastised for not being quick or clever enough. “This marriage is for political gain, for trust. We have to be _smart_ about this. Not everything can be won by force, but by cleverness. It’s time you learned that. Your attitude is abhorrent, Gamora. And you _will_ go to Ego in two days' time.”

“And if I don’t?” She folded her arms across her chest, staring up at him, stance defiant. He only chuckled in response.

“Then I will send Nebula in your place.” With that, he turned away from her, but not before giving her one last horrendously unsettling smirk.

* * *

Peter was half-sprawled across his seat in the palace’s throne room, one leg hooked up over the armrest, his elbow on his knee, using his fist to prop up his head. He had been sitting here for at least two hours, and was irreversibly, undeniably, dreadfully _bored._

“I see Dad couldn’t be bothered to show up,” he grumbled, looking over to Yondu. He immediately felt bad for complaining - at least he was sitting down. Yondu, as always, was standing by his side, though he had abandoned proper stance long ago, leaning against the throne so casually one would think it was _his_.

“You know he don’t care that much about all this business. He expects _you_ to be the one to receive your future wife,” Yondu shrugged. “And it ain’t like her daddy’s coming with, so why should _he_ hafta be here?”

“Because this is boring as hell!” Peter exclaimed a little too loudly, his voice echoing off the walls and ceilings of the enormous chamber. He shrunk a little in his seat at the sound. “I almost _want_ Thanos to show up at this point. Can’t make things any worse, right?”

“Please, Peter.” Mantis reached for him from her throne, delicately setting her hand down on his forearm, wrapping her fingers around him and squeezing. “Be patient. I believe I can already sense their presence. There is much emotional turmoil in the air, something I do not usually feel.”

“What do you mean, ‘they’? I thought it was just her. And no one’s even told me her name yet, by the way,” Peter added.

“She brought an entourage of her own, of course,” Yondu said, baffled at Peter’s ignorance. “And hell, _I_ don’t even know her name. Ego didn’t tell me shit, and I’m not about to start asking. She’ll introduce herself, I’m sure.”

As if on cue, the giant doors of the throne room swung open to reveal, to Peter’s surprise, just two young women, entirely alone aside from being escorted in by Kraglin, the palace’s head of the guard. He quickly sat up in his seat, leaning forward to get a better look as they began striding towards him.

Peter had, of course, heard about the Titans before. They weren’t so much a kingdom in the traditional sense as they were a dictator-led regime, what with all their leader’s adoptive children (the loose definition of ‘adopted’, anyway) being suited more for the battlefield than for any castle. So, he wasn’t surprised to see both women were decked out in full armor from head to toe, with leather padding at their shoulders, elbows, and knees, complete with hooded duster capes and masks that obscured the entire lower half of their faces. They were both relatively tall, at least six feet in height in their combat boots, an unparalleled fierceness in their dark eyes as they approached the elevated platform.

The herald, the poor brave soul, quickly stepped in front of them before they could get too close, and loudly announced, “Prince Peter and Princess Mantis, of the Celestial throne.” Peter couldn’t help but cringe at the descriptor - he _hated_ hearing it, every single time, without fail. It might have sounded cool the first time he had been addressed in such a manner, when he was _eight_ and the idea of being a prince had excited him to no end, but now it just felt oddly presumptuous, and moreover, undeserving.

“Your highnesses,” Peter said as calmly as he could, though inside, his heart was racing with anticipation. He bowed his head in grace. “Forgive the informality - we don’t usually have guests. And by usually, I mean never. So, uh. Hi.” He could practically hear Yondu face-palming beside him. “Um, introduce yourselves. Please.”

The women exchanged dubious looks, carrying out an astonishingly long wordless conversation with just their eyes to the point of making Peter squirm, until they finally turned back towards Peter and Mantis, their gaze considering. In near-perfect synchronicity, they pushed their hoods away and pulled their masks down around their necks, fully revealing their faces. The green-skinned girl took another step forward, her dark ponytail swinging slightly as she did. “My name is Gamora, daughter of Thanos, heir to the Titan throne, and your supposed future wife.” Her lip curled in distaste at the last one.

“Are you technically a princess?” Peter asked before he could stop himself. Mantis elbowed him in warning.

“That may be part of my title, but I am _no_ princess,” she retorted, a hint of a snarl in her voice. She gestured at the other girl, who looked equally as irritable, sporting a rather impressive scowl. “This is my sister, Nebula.” Nebula grunted in what Peter supposed was meant to be a greeting.

“Hello!” Mantis said as cheerfully as she could muster, though even _she_ looked hesitant about the whole ordeal. It didn’t help that both Gamora and Nebula were resting their free hand over the weapons holstered at their hips - Gamora appeared to have a sword, while Nebula had a pair of electrified blades. Nebula in particular looked like she was itching to use them. “Welcome to the planet Ego. Our father is a bit busy at the moment, as he is tending to some business off-planet, but I am sure we can work out all the details of this arrangement by ourselves.”

“This is a farce,” Nebula snapped very suddenly. “I’ve seen black market dealings more tightly run than this sham of a kingdom. What makes _you_ so special?”

In lieu of answering, a rumble began rippling through the ground, causing Gamora and Nebula to tip precariously, stumbling over their own feet as they yanked out their weapons. A beam of white light shot out of the floor beneath them, spinning and twirling like a ballerina.

“I believe this is what you wanted to see, isn’t it? The Celestial power? So here. I bring you a peace offering,” Peter said patiently.

The beam of light came to a stop a few feet in front of the girls, flipping over to reveal two beautifully carved marble blades, the handles turned towards them. Cautiously, Gamora took a hesitant step forward before picking one up, surprised to find it quite light despite its notoriously heavy substance. She glanced back at Nebula, who also looked unusually aghast at the display.

“What is this _really_ made of?” Gamora said suspiciously, looking up at Peter.

He chuckled, finally getting to his feet and making his way down the steps of the elevated platform. As he did, she could finally get a better look at his face - she knew nothing about him aside from his name, knew he possessed the Celestial genes of his father. Peter appeared to be younger than she initially thought - she’d heard all sorts of unappetizing stories about women even younger than she was getting married off to men at least twice their age - but he appeared to be no older than nineteen or twenty at the very most, like herself. He was handsome, she supposed, tall and broad, artfully disheveled with his haphazardly wind-blown hair and roguish, yet perfectly sculpted stubble. He was wearing a deep red, floor-sweeping leather cape over what looked to be otherwise normal clothes - a snug-fitting long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans - as if he had no inclination to keep up the appearances required of his title. He was unlike any other royalty she had ever seen, though admittedly, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to begin with.

“Some sort of compound I came up with myself. I dunno the science behind it, but it’s nice, right?” he grinned. The warmth of his voice was a little unsettling. “So. Let’s cut the crap about me sitting up there while you guys stand down here. I feel like I’m literally looking down on you guys. Dinner? You hungry?”

“As long as one of _your_ people taste-test each of our dishes in front of us to prove its lack of poison,” Gamora returned, eyes narrowing, though he couldn’t help but notice her tucking the marble blade into her belt alongside the plethora of other weapons she had stowed with her. “This is an arrangement of professionalism. Not friendship. So lead the way.”

* * *

Peter and Mantis were somewhat surprised when Gamora and Nebula swept into the dining hall accompanied by three other figures they hadn’t seen before - an incredibly muscular man (perhaps _too_ muscular, in Peter’s opinion) with swirling red tattoos all over his greenish-grey skin, a creature that looked to be an exact replica of a Terran raccoon, and a...tree?

“Drax and Groot lead our security detail, not that we need one,” Gamora smirked in response to Peter’s confused glance. “Rocket is our...aide. That’s his official title, at least. He mostly helps with our weaponry and tech. Father doesn’t know he’s here with us, however. It’s best he doesn’t know at all.”

“ _Ri-i-ight_.” Peter decided it was best not to ask any more questions, instead gesturing for everyone to take a seat. He sort of hated the dining hall - like the rest of Ego’s palace, it consisted of glittering gold walls and floors, floor-to-ceiling curving windows, towering arches and columns covered in ornate patterns, and yet the very barest of furniture - just the excessively long table, enough chairs to seat fifty quite comfortably, and a few potted alien plants in the corners. They almost never ate here, considering how over-the-top it all was, but after Nebula’s biting remark, he wanted to at least _try_ to provide some hospitality, or more accurately, show off just a little bit. His pride _was_ at stake here, after all. “Would you like to discuss the terms of our, uh, _arrangement_ over dinner, or would you rather leave it for another time?”

“Leaving it for another time requires us to remain in each other’s presence for longer than we need to.” Gamora pursed her lips. “Does that sound _ideal_ to you?”

He frowned, offended. “Hey, I’m not a huge fan of this, either, but you don’t have to be hostile. If we wanna make this work, we gotta act like adults.”

“You really are unlike any other regime we’ve ever come across,” Gamora snorted. “The informality of both your reception and your speech are hardly good starting points for negotiations.”

Before Peter could open his mouth with what he was sure to be a clever comeback, the servants entered with trays of appetizers, setting them down delicately in front of each person and removing the cloches with a flourish. To his surprise, the guests appeared truly impressed for the first time, oddly fixated on the food for all of five seconds before they started digging in with great enthusiasm. “I dunno what this is, but it’s way better than what they served on Sanctuary,” Rocket said between bites, practically letting it spill out of his mouth as he spoke. Mantis wrinkled her nose a little in disgust.

“All our food is grown here,” Peter replied, smiling a little uncertainly. He was still unused to looking at Rocket and Groot especially. Having encountered many a strange alien every now and then, it was odd to see creatures that strongly resembled Terran biology. It made him ache for a brief moment in memory of his home planet.

They were mostly silent throughout the appetizer, something Peter and Mantis found uneasy. They usually ate alone together in one of the smaller sitting rooms whenever Ego wasn’t home, chatting excitedly about their days. Peter especially liked talking, was even considered to be relatively good at it. As far as his people were concerned, it was made him a more personable leader, made them feel like they were talking to a friend instead of their ruler.

By the time they got to the main course, Peter finally spoke again, as he could stand the quiet no longer. “What’s it like, being a Titan?” He glanced around at the others, hoping that one of them, _any_ of them, would reply. The tree didn’t seem too talkative - he had enthusiastically introduced himself a few times when they had first walked in, but since then had just been sitting in silence, a pleasant (if a little vacant) smile on his face. Nebula hadn’t said a word since she yelled at him earlier, and Drax seemed content on stuffing his face with as much food as possible in the shortest amount of time.

“Does it have bearing on our arrangement?” Gamora returned easily.

“Well...no. I was just making conversation.” His eyes narrowed a little. Was she really that disinterested in talking about anything other than their so-called marriage? It was like pulling teeth with her.

Twisting her mouth in displeasure once more, Gamora slammed her fork and knife down on the table. “Fine. You _really_ want to know what it’s like, being a leader of Titan? Nebula and I were taken from our homes as children, raised to be weapons of mass destruction. We were taught how to kill another being in a hundred different ways by the age of ten, have slaughtered both criminals and innocents by the dozens on never-ending paths of terror. Our beds are rock, and our insides are steel. We are no _princesses_ , like your sister here. We are _warriors._ ” Gamora got to her feet, her chair sliding abruptly across the floor with an uncomfortable screech, and promptly stormed out, her hair and her cape swishing behind her.

“Well done,” Nebula said sarcastically after a moment of stunned silence. “You really are as _useless_ as you look.” She stood as if to go after her sister, but Mantis got there first, holding out a hand towards Nebula in warning.

“I will take care of it,” she said, her voice low. For the first time since the Titans’ arrival, her antennae began to glow, bending towards Nebula in a hypnotizing dance. Slowly, in a dream-like state, Nebula sank back down into her chair, her usually narrowed dark eyes now blown wide with fear. “Do not leave this room.”

Once Mantis had left the room in pursuit of Gamora, Nebula shook herself a little, the fog lifting from her head. “What was that?” she hissed. “What did she do to me?”

“Don’t underestimate my sister,” Peter said, tilting his chin somewhat triumphantly. “Mantis is an empath. I’m sorry it had to come to that - she never uses her powers without permission - but we don’t exactly condone violence here. Dad doesn’t want us to ruin the _lovely_ decor.”

A few awkward minutes later, with everyone banging their cutlery and cups a little louder to cover for the silence, Mantis returned with Gamora in tow, who also looked just as abashed as her sister had. “I realize my outburst was unhelpful in continuing our discussion,” she said, returning to her seat. “If we are truly to carry out this... _arrangement_ of our respective fathers, then we need to at least know the very basics about each other. So please, tell me about yourself and your kingdom.”

Smiling easily, it was now Peter’s turn to put his fork down. “Well, for starters, it’s not really a kingdom? This planet _is_ Ego himself. The humanoid form you’ll be meeting is more of an avatar, a physical body he uses to communicate with people. He used to be entirely alone out here until he found Mantis when she was a baby, orphaned on her homeworld. Me, I was born on Terra. I lived with my mom until I was eight, didn’t even know my dad wasn’t human. She...died, of cancer, and Dad sent Yondu to pick me up and bring me here. After he convinced me to stay, I managed to convince _him_ it would be easier to maintain the planet and his creations if there were people living here, doing some honest work. So we looked for people like Mantis who had been lost, looking for purpose. Ever since then, the place has really become its own. We have a population of two billion people from all over the galaxy. They aren’t _really_ Celestials - the only living Celestials, as far as we know, are me and Dad - but we kinda call them that because there really isn’t another name to give ‘em.”

“It appeared quite vacant when we first arrived,” Gamora commented thoughtfully. The tightness in her voice was fading away in favor of curiosity. “This territory...is it only for your family?”

“Yes,” Mantis said, nodding enthusiastically. She, too, had lost the hardness in her eyes from confronting Nebula earlier. “The only civilians allowed in this area are those who work in the palace.”

“And what of their families?” Gamora prompted. “They must live quite far away from here, then.”

Peter and Mantis exchanged nervous looks. “Most of them don’t really... _have_ family,” Peter said tentatively. “The ones who work here are usually the ones who have already lost their families. We find that giving them work renews their outlook on life, despite the fact that their loved ones are gone.” Drax twitched so suddenly that Peter was almost certain he had imagined it. “Many of them manage to find new families in those they work with - friends, significant others. And if they have children, they’re allowed to live in their parents’ quarters in the palace. I know we might seem disorganized, but I promise, it’s just because we haven’t been around for very long. We don’t have the centuries of history that other kingdoms have, but we kinda have an idea of what worked and what didn’t by observing others.”

“And your father _never_ uses his abilities on your people?” Nebula quirked an eyebrow in doubt. “I don’t believe that.”

“Only for good. We provide what we can,” Peter nodded. “Dad does most of it, though it kinda drains him. He usually gets Mantis to use her powers to help keep him sane. Me, I’m still not great at it. I’ve only got about ten years of experience under my belt. Still learning.”

“Interesting,” Gamora drawled, leaning back in her chair. She pulled the marble blade from her belt, holding it up to eye level briefly before pressing its tip into the surface of the dining table, twirling it with one finger resting on the hilt. “We’ve been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. Heard tales of the Celestials, what they were capable of. _Rumors_ , of what they could do. What they _might_ do, given the chance.”

“If you’re implying that my dad’s doing something wrong - ” Peter began, but Gamora interrupted him instantly.

“I’m in no position to judge. Look at _our_ father,” she said with a derisive snort. “Look at what he’s asked of me. And let’s not be naive here, Peter Quill. Thanos and Ego didn’t set this up to play matchmaker. They want to unite our powers. They want something far beyond anything we could imagine alone. The real question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Do about it?” Peter echoed rather dumbly.

“Absolute power,” she said slowly, leaning across the table (well, as best she could. It was unreasonably wide) to stare him down. “Do we let it happen, or do we make it go away entirely?”

“Well, this conversation just took a turn,” Yondu commented dryly, the first time he had spoken since dinner started. Gamora and Nebula were surprised to see him speak out of turn, but Peter, as always, only poked him in retaliation before turning back to observe the girls.

Before Peter could properly gather his thoughts, the servers came back to remove their plates and bring out dessert, elaborate puddings and cakes topped with heaps of fruit and sugary crystalline structures. It was the bare bones of a distraction, though, as he instead began to wonder what the Titans had _really_ come here for. Gamora’s words implied that she wanted to go against Thanos, to stop him before it was too late. He wasn’t sure whether to interpret Nebula’s silence as agreeance, or at least, compliance, but she seemed to be something of a wildcard, guided more by self-preservation than logic. And okay, Peter knew that his dad wasn’t exactly squeaky clean, either - there were places he and Mantis were never allowed to go within spitting distance of, and they’d been punished by the light before, enough times for Peter to comfortably refer to it as abuse (in his mind, anyway. There was no telling what would happen if he said it out loud). But was it enough to justify defiance? Or, more accurately, treason? _Was_ it treason?

“What are you proposing here, then? I’m guessing it’s not marriage,” Peter said, half-teasing, though his insides were beginning to twist unpleasantly at her insinuations.

Gamora cast yet another glance at Nebula, who nodded sharply at her in a surprising show of support. When she looked back at Peter and spoke once more, he was surprised to hear a hint of desperation in her voice for the first time. “I’m proposing an alliance, between my people and yours, that do not involve our respective fathers, before anyone gets hurt,” she said. “You have no idea the kind of horrors Thanos will unleash upon this universe, should he succeed in his plans.”

“And what _is_ his plan?” Peter felt Yondu place a hand on his arm in warning, but he shook him off. He wanted to hear this, wanted to know where this was going.

“To pretend that this marriage is only that,” she said, her voice beginning to tremble. “We are to observe your father, find out the full potential of a Celestial and how to use it to our advantage. Then, kill him to take control of this planet, and manipulate _you_ into working for us.”

Peter, stunned into silence, felt his spoon slip between his fingers. The clattering sound it made upon striking the bottom of his bowl only intensified the persistent ringing in his ears. Heart racing, his eyes flickered over towards Yondu, who had also frozen at Gamora’s admittance. “Mantis?” Yondu finally said. “What do ya think, girl?”

Mantis cocked her head in observance, her face utterly blank aside from her eyes roaming Gamora’s face, her antennae moving gently as if to bow to the other girl. “She is speaking the truth,” she finally said. “Thanos does intend on killing Father. Or rather, having _her_ kill Father.”

“Then they should know _our_ truth,” Peter said, standing abruptly.

“Don’t be stupid, Quill,” Yondu warned, once again reaching for his arm and getting shaken off instantly. Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air in defeat and leaned back. “It’s your funeral, boy.”

“You speak quite freely for a subordinate,” Drax interjected. “Have you no respect for your master?”

“Oh, so you _do_ talk!” Yondu retorted.

“Only when it is required of me,” Drax replied irritably. “I see no use in yammering on like a schoolchild, with nothing of importance to say.”

“That would imply what you just said was useful!”

“Hey, leave Drax alone,” Rocket snapped, jumping up onto his chair and pounding a fist on the table, rattling the dishes around him. “What the hell is this ‘our truth’ business about, Quill?”

“Do not talk to him like that,” Mantis snapped, her antennae angling themselves towards Rocket as she, too, shot out of her seat. “You will address him as ‘your highness’ or ‘Prince Peter’ - ”

“No, don’t - everyone just _shut up!_ ” Peter yelled. Silence immediately fell across the table. He wasn’t sure when everyone else had stood up. “You guys need to know...if Dad dies, this planet dies too. _Everyone_ on it dies. Children...families. And I’ll lose my Celestial powers.”

“Quill!” Yondu hissed, but Peter only flapped a hand at him to shut him up.

“The only way that _your_ dad can get what he wants…” Peter trailed off, hesitant to finish the sentence. He wasn’t liking his odds.

“...is if we kill _you_ instead,” Gamora finished, sinking back down. “Hit your father where it hurts, but not lose the chance for a Celestial slave. Well, we’re not doing that.”

“Really?” Peter exclaimed before he could stop himself. After her whole spiel about her and Nebula being experienced killers, he almost expected them to take him down where he stood.

She glared daggers at him in return. Okay, fair. It did sound rather judgemental, now that he thought about it. “Does it _look_ like Nebula and I want to carry out Thanos’s plans? We’ve been discussing what to do while on our journey here, and we’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to prevent certain death is to work with _you._ To stop Thanos from committing genocide with your father’s powers.”

“You’re kidding.” Peter looked once again to Mantis, who shook her head in affirmation. “You know, a little warning would’ve been real helpful. And what were you gonna do if Dad was here?”

“I would have asked for a private meeting,” Gamora said, shrugging. Her face softened. “Quill, please, don’t make me beg. _Billions_ will perish if we choose not to interfere. If we do nothing, we are helping Thanos succeed. We are helping him hurt people...torture them...in the ways that he did to us.” To illustrate Gamora’s point, Nebula wordlessly lifted her arm, disengaging her robotic hand to demonstrate the cybernetics inside, the twists and turns of the wiring and metal that now made up the majority of her body.

Once again, Peter found himself speechless, unsure of what to say, as he fixated on Nebula’s display of vulnerability. “Listen, I...I don’t know what you were expecting from me. Because you’re asking a lot here, and I’m no hero. But...if I can help...if _we_ can help…” Mantis nodded encouragingly, though Yondu continued to look concerned. “...then we’ll do what we can,” he finished, giving Gamora a weak smile in return. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Gamora finally smiled as well, a genuine warmth beginning to spread across her face. Peter’s breath hitched a little at the sight. “Well, first of all…”

* * *

“You must be crazy,” Nebula said snidely, half-stomping into the bathroom without warning, hopping up onto the counter - gold-laced marble, of course, to match the rest of the garish decor.

Gamora barely glanced away from the mirror, still vigorously brushing her teeth. Admittedly, she hadn’t felt this clean in months - her last mission had her hiding out in the lush forests of Dervani, and Sanctuary lacked the facilities that Ego’s palace boasted in spades. It was refreshing to not have a thin layer of ash covering her skin for once. “What is it this time?”

“After _all_ that, you’re _still_ going to marry that idiot?” Nebula scoffed. She picked up one of the bars of soap from the bathroom counter, snorting when she realized it was in the shape of a rose.

“I already explained this to you.” Gamora let out a long-suffering sigh. “We can’t give away our betrayal to Thanos until the opportune moment strikes to kill him, once and for all. We must pretend for everyone’s sake that Quill and I are oblivious to his and Ego’s plans. And Quill, he isn’t as naive as I expected, but he seems quite adequate at pretending to be. _We_ just have to pretend we don’t care.”

“And I don’t,” Nebula snapped. Gamora shot her a dirty look in response. “Fine, but only because I have nothing better to do,” she said, relenting. “Still, you’re really going to follow through with this?”

“What other choice do we have?” Gamora rinsed her mouth, taking a moment to observe her reflection. And really, they didn’t. ‘Only choice’ - an oxymoron. It was a risk, saying anything at all, assuming that Peter, Mantis, and Yondu were indeed going to keep to their word, and not go to Ego and tell him of her plans. But despite the dubious nature of their kingdom, its undecided role in the cosmos, she felt like she could trust them. Either that, or all three of them were incredibly gifted actors. “We’re trapped, Nebula. If we choose to look the other way, the entire universe could get wiped out. If I refuse to marry Quill, Thanos will begin with killing _us._ We must take the narrowest path, and navigate with great caution - I marry Quill, we remain here on this planet and work with our new allies. When Thanos decides to strike, that’s when we take him down, and escape our old lives. Forever.”

“I do like the sound of that,” Nebula admitted. “Though you seem rather optimistic about being able to take down our father despite having no idea how to do so.”

“ _Someone_ has to be,” Gamora murmured. “The other three are about as confident in my plans as you are. Though I can’t say I’m enthused myself - Quill seems competent, but his attitude worries me. And I don’t know how rational he’ll be in battle, but...I was quite rash earlier myself. I don’t like disclosing our histories to just about anyone.”

“Well, he’s not _just_ about anyone, he’s your future husband,” Nebula said with a smirk. “Let’s just agree that you’re _both_ crazy. What a match made in heaven.”

* * *

The next morning, Peter found himself pacing up and down his study, nerves rapidly fraying, glancing at the clock every so often as if it were going to make a difference. He had arranged to have a private meeting with Gamora, but she was already ten minutes late. Had something happened to her? Or, more likely, did she decide not to come after all? He could practically hear Yondu’s voice in his head - _“Quit pacin’, boy, you’re gonna wear holes in that carpet!”_ \- but he couldn’t help but worry.

Gamora had certainly turned out to be more - complex wasn’t quite the right word, but he wasn’t sure what else _was_ \- than he thought. Peter was familiar with Thanos’s reputation, knew of the great and terrible horrors he had committed across the galaxy. Ego had chosen to look the other way, as he often did ( _“We can’t concern ourselves with the affairs of others, Peter, they’re far beyond our help”_ ), but every single time he heard of yet another devastating event, Peter couldn’t help but think about what he could have done, had he been there. He had truly meant it when he told the others yesterday that he was no hero. He used his powers for menial tasks - lifting heavy objects, creating things out of thin air, reaching for the television remote when he couldn’t be bothered to get up. He knew he could be capable of so much more, though he couldn’t help but blame Ego a little bit for holding him back.

But yes, back to Gamora. She was intimidating, that was for sure. Almost frightening at times, the way she held herself, and he still had yet to see her famous fighting prowess. There were stories of her that transcended the entirety of space - daughter of Thanos, the deadliest woman in the galaxy, so on and so forth - but he had never heard her actual name until now. Seeing her in person, he was admittedly in awe. She was constantly in control - even when she had stormed off, the entire room had fallen silent, as if her presence commanded everyone to look and listen to her without her ever having to actually ask. There was true power behind every move she made, every word she spoke. Secretly, Peter also found her quite beautiful - captivating, even, but he was most impressed by her show of humanity. He would never have expected it from a person with her reputation, but maybe that was what made it all the more genuine. Her concern for others, her insistence on saving them, was a sign of maturity that Peter couldn’t have anticipated.

His musings were interrupted when the doors of his study abruptly swung open. Gamora stood tall, in a lesser version of her armor (though still no less impressive), sans cape. “This palace is impossible to navigate,” she informed him haughtily.

“Hello to you too,” Peter said, gesturing at the plush armchairs in front of the ornate brick fireplace. “Please, have a seat.”

“You speak of servants, and yet I’ve run into almost no one on my way here,” she continued as she sat down. “That man who led us to your throne, Kraglin, he said he was the head of the guard, but I’ve seen almost no ‘guard’ the whole time we’ve been here.”

“You’ve been here for less than a day,” Peter reminded her as he settled into the other chair. “And like I said, we aren’t that old-school. The guard only really exists for the off-chance that someone declares war, which probably isn’t gonna happen, aside from Thanos. Most of them are just stationed among the population to protect the people, act more as police than security for planet-wide threats.”

She nodded, folding one leg neatly over the other, staring into the crackling fire. She briefly wondered if it was real, or if it was manufactured by his Celestial abilities. “Why have you summoned me, Quill?”

“Our post-dinner discussion went kind of nuts yesterday when everyone kept wanting to talk about what they thought. Or maybe we all just like to talk too much,” he chuckled softly. “Anyways, I thought, y’know, maybe we could try to figure out a plan ourselves, without everyone else’s ‘input’.”

“Fair enough. Where do we begin?”

“Well, this might be a good start.” Peter opened the palm of his hand and extended it towards her. She watched as his fingers were swathed in white light, weaving and winding their way up his arm in ribbon-like formation. A small, completely smooth sphere of white marble suddenly appeared, levitating a couple inches above his hand, turning over and over and over again until it had transformed into a perfectly-shaped ring. In its very center was a large, pale green diamond, ensconced in an intricate carving of two blades with a double helix hilt. Gamora, at a loss for words, could only stare as the ring floated over to her, hovering in front of her face. She held up her hand in uncertainty, splaying her fingers outwards, and the ring delicately slid itself onto her finger. “What do you think?”

“It’s a bit eccentric for an engagement ring,” she said, her voice hoarse with an emotion she couldn’t name. “But I’ll accept it.”

“Cool!” he said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the indefinable expression on her face. “So, we tell our dads we’ve agreed to get married. I’m guessing they both want it to happen as soon as possible, so they can start taking over the galaxy together or whatever while simultaneously figuring out how to screw each other out of the deal. In the meantime, while they’re busy playing mind games, we start figuring out the best way to stop them. We also have to play nice in public as well. My dad likes to do all these over-the-top events for our people - he’s a real show-off - so I doubt our wedding is gonna be anything less than insane.”

“That sounds horrendous and I want no part in it,” Gamora replied, frowning.

“Well, we gotta make the best out of a really bad situation. You might be used to doing stuff like this, but I’m not, and it just seems really freaking dangerous.” He leaned back in his seat, his hands beginning to glow again, though he had no intention of creating anything.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to _escape_ my father, let alone kill him,” she said gently. “But yours…”

“He’s not...it’s...it’s complicated.” He continued to twist his fingers together. “I’m never really sure how to feel about him. You probably don’t feel that way about Thanos, considering what he did to you and your sister - you know _exactly_ how you feel. But Dad...I _hated_ him when we first met, because he was never there for me, never there for my mom, until she was already gone. Then he showed me the kind of power I was capable of. And I was a kid back then, so I went along with it, loved what he could show me. I don’t know if it means I love _him_ , you know? And he gets really mad at me and Mantis sometimes, punishes us with this ‘light’ if we don’t obey him. But he always acts like he’s some kind, loving father most of the time. And...maybe that’s the scariest part of all.”

Gamora fell silent, unsure of how to respond. She still knew so little of this man, and yet she could already tell that he was an open book. She wasn’t sure what had spurred him to tell her something so intimate, but she was glad to have heard it, grateful, almost, to know he already trusted her enough to share such a story. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said quietly. “Will he be returning soon?”

“He passed on the message this morning - he’ll be back by tomorrow evening at the very latest. We’ll have to be really careful around him, but I think I can convince him to let you stay in my quarters instead - I’ll make something up about how I really like you - _wait_ , that came out wrong - ” He let out a panicked breath. “I mean, I don’t know you well enough to say whether I like you or not? You seem pretty cool, but - ”

“Quill, are you _always_ like this?” Gamora interrupted, exasperated, though she was secretly sort of amused. She hadn’t been so tempted to smile around another person that wasn’t Nebula in a very, _very_ long time. His ability to switch from an emotional monologue to babbling nonsense was rather entertaining.

“Pretty much,” Peter admitted, laughing. “Anyways, I’ll tell my dad that I want to keep you close by, you can move into the spare room in my quarters, and that way, it’ll be easier for us to have private conversations. It would also make it easier for _your_ people to come under the guise of wanting to see you, and we can have all our big discussions right here. Hopefully we can fly under the radar that way, avoid making Dad suspicious.”

“Understood.” Her eyes wandered around the rest of the room for the first time, taking in the bookshelves and desk, the multiple tables and chairs. It was so unlike the furnishing she had seen more than enough of in other parts of the palace, lacking the gold she had already become so accustomed to. Everything was, for lack of a better word, old-fashioned. Dark woods, scratched and marked, a ding here and there. Linen and cotton trimmings in place of silks and velvets, mismatched colors and stains that looked like they had been there for years. It was quite homely compared to the arrogance of every other room. It was surprising, considering Peter had such confidence, such a swagger in his step that exuded, well, _ego_. She had been expecting the same amount of exuberance, but instead, there was something humbling about his quarters, warm and inviting. “If my people and I are to live here for the time being, however long that may be, I request a proper tour. Nebula and I would specifically like to see your training facilities, as we have a very strict exercise regimen to adhere to.”

“Of course. We could do it now, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Have you no duties to attend to today?” she asked.

“Uh, well, Dad...he doesn’t really trust me or Mantis to do anything but sit around and look pretty,” Peter confessed, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck as he stood. “We have a decent amount of say in the politics, as long as he’s actually present. But when he’s gone? The place sort of...runs itself.”

“That sounds improper, but it somehow seems to work for you,” Gamora acquiesced, also getting to her feet. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Mantis was thrilled when Peter asked her to lead the tour with him, though Gamora’s people seemed less enthused. The Celestial siblings were already showing their hand at being quite capable of talking fifty miles per minute if it pleased them, and it certainly did.

“The abridged version would have been sufficient,” Gamora commented, though not unkindly, when they arrived at their last stop, the gardens at the very back of the palace. “I was aware this place was quite large, but I wasn’t expecting it to take two whole hours.”

“You have somewhere better to be?” Yondu snorted. Offended, Gamora scowled at him, though he seemed unmoved by her display.

“Play nice, Yondu,” Peter chastised.

“I am Groot.” They all turned towards Groot, who had settled down on the edge of the fountain, his beady dark eyes staring around in wonder at the lushness of his surroundings. Peter had to admit, the gardens were his favorite part of the palace, especially as a child - twelve-foot tall hedges surrounding them in every direction, winding stone pathways interwoven with crushed glittering crystals, hundreds of enormous flower bushes blossoming to their very fullest, neatly trimmed grass that was as green as far as the eye could see. Stone benches that were artfully worn and carefully placed, the occasional tree bursting with ripe fruit and flowers, the idle chirp of a bird gently piercing the air every now and then. And of course, the enormous fountain in the very middle of it all, made of - what else? - gold, boasted a statue of Ego, his cape suspended halfway as if it were fluttering in the wind, and atop his shoulders, eight-year-old Peter and six-year-old Mantis. They were both wearing crowns dripping in jewels and intricate scroll-like carvings, which they had never worn in real life. Aside from the fountain, the Titans were surprised to find the gardens rather tasteful.

“How gaudy,” Nebula said of the statue. “Your father’s name suits him, Quill.”

“Yeah, it’s a little on-the-nose, isn’t it?” Peter laughed. Nebula looked taken aback at Peter’s agreeance with her. “Anyways, I hope we managed to entertain you for the last couple hours, and that you’ll be able to find your way around here a little easier now.”

“You didn’t, and we won’t,” Rocket drawled, though he softened somewhat when he joined Groot at the fountain. “No, don’t drink the water, you d’ast idiot.” Groot appeared to be offended at being caught.

Continuing to chuckle, Peter moved to join Gamora as the others began wandering off among the foliage. “So? Impressed?”

“‘Satisfied’ would be more accurate,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “It’s a better sight than Sanctuary. My bed...I feel as if I could have sunk right through to the floor.” Looking almost remorseful, she added softly, “I almost slept in.”

Surprised by her admittance, or rather, the fact she felt it was worthy of _guilty_ admittance, he gave her a gentle smile in return. “Hey, you know you don’t have to stick to a schedule or anything, right? Like I’ve been saying, this kingdom is pretty damn lax. Aside from, y’know, my kinda violent dad? But he only does that to me and Mantis, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You seem unsettlingly nonchalant about that fact,” she said firmly. “It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not, but...what can you do?” he shrugged. He took another cautious step closer so they were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, gazing out to the gardens.

She looked up at him. “You can do _something_ ,” she said quietly. “Which is what we’re going to do. And if it were up to me, we would have an army standing behind us. But something tells me your so-called ‘guard’ isn’t exactly up to the task.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? We’ve got perfectly good soldiers,” Peter protested.

“It’s hard to believe you when you also tell me that you and your sister apparently do nothing of importance all day. That can’t possibly be a good influence on your subjects. How do you better your minds, your bodies? How can you be so sure you’re ready for impending war?” she whispered urgently, casting a nervous glance at their people, who were now all gathered around the fountain, making conversation. Rocket seemed to have said something that made everyone laugh.

“You think I don’t know how to fight?” he replied, teasing. He was hardly offended by her insinuation, considering her violent background in contrast with his cushy lifestyle, but hey, he couldn’t help but want to show off a little in response. “Oh, I can fight. Pretty decently, actually.”

“I’d like to see that,” she said, a smirk beginning to form. “I need to know who I’m fighting alongside, after all.” Gesturing for her to lead the way, the two of them walked to an open field of grass not too far from the others, free of the excessive amounts of foliage and rocks that occupied the other areas of the gardens. “I’ll be lenient,” she continued, removing her utility belt and tossing it aside. “No weapons. Hand-to-hand only.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank - _oof!_ ” Gamora had almost instantly roundhouse-kicked him in the gut as he spoke, causing Peter to stumble back several feet, nearly tipping head over heels right from the start. “Oh, it’s that kind of fight, hey?”

He swung, aiming for her shoulder, hoping to at least disarm her, only for her to catch his fist immediately and shove him downwards, slamming his head into the ground. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” she said tauntingly, straddling him, her hands wrapped firmly around his biceps to hold him there.

“I’m good when the other person doesn’t fight _dirty_.” Trying to ignore the press of her hips against his, he wrestled his arms out from her grasp and reached up to yank on her ponytail, causing her to cry out in pain, arching her back as he pulled. He took the opportunity to strike her now-exposed torso with his elbow, and as she rolled off of him, he pounced, pinning her to the ground, forearm braced against her throat, pushing her chin upwards.

“Pulling my hair? That’s the act of a child,” she chuckled weakly. “What was that about playing dirty again?” There was a brightness in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before, a sort of joy that he suspected didn’t come easy to her. He could only hope that she was already beginning to feel comfortable around him, or _trust_ him, at the very least.

“Peter! I do hope that’s your future wife you’ve got underneath you there, and not another one of your trysts!” A booming voice from no more than fifteen feet away suddenly made Peter’s blood run cold. He and Gamora turned their heads to see Ego standing before them, hands on his hips, cape billowing behind him (Peter was at least ninety-five percent sure that he had created a permanent wind that followed him around for moments such as this). “Care to introduce us?”

Peter scrambled to his feet, bowing his head in submission. “Dad. This is Gamora of the Titans, daughter of Thanos. And yes, she is. She accepted my proposal.”

Gamora stood as well, bending fully at the waist before extending her left hand to shake, allowing the green diamond to glint spectacularly in the sunlight for Ego to see. “It is an honor to meet you,” she murmured. “Your planet is unlike anything me and my people have ever seen before, and we have been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.”

Peter couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t actually a compliment, but knowing his father, he would certainly think it was. “Powerful, kind, _and_ beautiful,” Ego chuckled, clasping her hand between both of his. “I chose wisely, didn’t I, Peter?”

“You’re home early,” Peter replied in lieu of answering the slightly creepy question. “Something go wrong?”

“On the contrary, my boy. Just checking up on one of my projects, and it went pretty well. _Too_ well, in fact, which is why I’m back now!” Ego grinned, letting go of Gamora’s hand. “I see you’ve fashioned quite the ring for your girl.” Gamora’s eyes narrowed at the nomenclature, though she chose not to comment, instead opting to move back to Peter’s side.

“She’s not - _Dad_ , come on,” Peter sighed, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I do have one request, by the way. I’d like for Gamora to stay in the spare room in my quarters.”

Ego raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that, son?”

“I’d...like to get to know her better. And I see no reason for her to remain in the guest wing when she’s going to be more than just a guest,” Peter said, giving her a tentative smile. Her eyes met his, a little more warmth returning, though her mouth remained downturned at the corners, stiff.

Ego’s eyes twinkled with mirth, clapping his hands together joyously. “Do I sense something in the air, Peter? _Love_ , maybe? Or should I ask Mantis what _she_ thinks?”

“Let’s not be hasty here,” Peter said, panicked, looking back to his father. “C’mon, Dad, don’t embarrass me.”

“I’m your dad, Peter, it’s my job to embarrass you,” he laughed, stepping forward to throw an arm over Peter’s shoulder, not-so-subtly guiding him away from Gamora. “Now, tell me all about what’s been going on since I left…”

* * *

Peter and Gamora weren’t alone again until nighttime, when she packed up her bags (or rather, _bag_ ) from the guest wing and accompanied him to his quarters, making their way through the eerily quiet palace, the open-air corridors bathing them in a wash of moonlight. “Sorry about my dad,” Peter said. “Like I was saying - not the most stable guy in the world.”

“Do your people know of his actions against you and your sister?” Gamora asked.

“You kidding? Of course not. Can you imagine what it’d be like if they did? _Total_ chaos. Everyone would go running for their lives to Xandar or something.” He opened the door to his private quarters, motioning for her to enter. “Plus, it’d probably just open up the possibility of him doing it to anyone he wants to. Turn this place into a damn nightmare.”

“Considering his abilities, I’m surprised he chose to run his planet with generosity instead of coercion,” she added. “I suppose it must be your and Mantis’s influence. You have been very hospitable, if a little unorthodox. I’ve seen no signs of instability in either of you.”

“Well, I dunno about that. We all have our demons, don’t we? Things that drive us crazy?” Peter led her into the sitting room, which was every bit as cozy as his study, with large plush couches and modest furnishings. There was a sunken area in the back, which featured a few bookshelves flanked by identical-looking doors, and in between, a large set of gold-embossed double doors. He pointed to the door on the very left. “Your room is through there - has a private bathroom and everything. The big doors here are to my bedroom, so just knock before you come in. Everything else is open to you if you’d like, not that you’ll find anything interesting. It’s just a lot of books, keepsakes, random junk, that kinda thing.”

She nodded, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Quill.” She moved to open the door to her room, though her fingers lingered on the doorknob in hesitation as she turned to glance at him one last time over her shoulder. “Also, your fighting methods are unconventional, which may come in handy against disciplined warriors such as myself, but perhaps not the most effective way of doing things. I could help train you if you’d like. For our future endeavors, of course.”

His smile deepened, though he ducked his head away from the intensity of her gaze, feeling unusually shy. “Yeah, that...that’d be awesome. Thanks. Uh, night.”

“Goodnight.” She nodded curtly before disappearing behind the door. Peter chuckled to himself in wonderment at what exactly he’d gotten himself into as he made his way into his own bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, and welcome to a fic that is _not_ my 20 questions 'verse for once! I really liked the idea of playing around with a modern royalty AU while still keeping it pretty close to their MCU selves, since that's apparently how I do my AUs. I also wanted to have a Celestial!Peter since I low-key wish they had explored that a little more in _GOTG Vol. 2_. Like, concept - Peter using his Celestial powers in _Infinity War_ against Thanos. Is it just me that wants to see that, haha
> 
> This was originally gonna be a three-part oneshot but I'm unexpectedly going back to school in January, so now it's an eight-chapter fic to give me more time to work on it. I hope this will also give me a chance to get feedback from you guys as I write. Unlike my other fic, I don't have a set schedule on when I'm posting updates, as I'll probably go days without writing once midterms come around, but I _do_ know I'll be posting Chapter 2 on December 15th, so I hope y'all are looking forward to that :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and see you in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's my own desire...it's my own remorse..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for _slightly_ graphic descriptions of physical abuse of both Ego towards Peter and Mantis as children, and Thanos towards Gamora and Nebula as children.

“Gamora, was it?”

Somehow, the jovial warmth of his voice only sent shivers up her spine. Slowly, she turned on her heel, bowing her head in greeting. “Yes, your highness. Are you headed to breakfast as well?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said cheerfully. “I hope you don’t mind if I walk with you. And please, you’re part of this family now - call me Ego.”

 _I certainly will_ , she thought snidely, though she only gave him a vacant smile in return. “This is rather forward of me to ask, but I was wondering if you could explain your Celestial powers in more detail. Your son did a fine job in displaying the extent of his, but I imagine with a millennium more of experience, there must be _something_ to show for it.”

He fell into step beside her as they walked towards the dining hall at a leisurely pace, his shoulders a little too close to hers for comfort, though she supposed that, at the very least, he hadn’t put his arm around her the way he had done to Peter yesterday. Small mercies. “Well, now, I can’t go sharing _all_ the family secrets just yet, can I? You’ve got to earn them, sweetheart. But what I _can_ tell you is there really are no limits to what I can do, what I can create, with just a _little_ bit of light.” Ego pulled a rose seemingly out of nowhere and held it out to her. She accepted it with another smile and the full intention of disposing of it later. “Peter, he’s a good kid, but he lacks the focus required to master such a precise skill. But with a million or so years of practice, he’ll get there.”

She looked at him inquisitively. “So you’re both immortal?” she asked, twisting the stem of the rose between her fingers.

“As long as the light in this planet carries on,” he nodded sagely. “I suppose it’ll be a sad day for Peter, the moment you come to pass. I raised that boy from childhood, I know him well. _Too_ well, you could say. And I’ve never seen him so taken with a girl before.”

“I believe his interest in me is out of intrigue, rather than attraction. I must be very different to the women he’s encountered before, considering my... _history_ ,” she said diplomatically. “Where did this ‘light’ of yours originate from?”

“I can’t explain it really,” Ego hummed thoughtfully. “It’s like I just... _popped_ into existence, just like that. It took me hundreds of years to even fully form, and then hundreds more to really understand and harness my powers of creation. But I gotta tell you, and this is such a dad thing of me to do, bragging about my kid, but Peter got a handle on the light the moment I explained it to him. I knew he would. He’s always been so clever, so curious. He made a little ball, asked if we could play catch. A real charmer, my boy,” he chuckled.

Gamora sighed internally, her mouth tensing in frustration. Clearly, there was no escaping talking about Peter, and despite her admitted curiosity about her future husband, they were only a couple minutes away from joining the others, and she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a better opportunity to learn more than right now. “You clearly care about him very much,” she lied. “He spoke fondly of you as well.”

“Did he now?” Ego looked pleased by this - of course he did. “He’s a sweet kid, my son - or should I say, a good man. Could use a little discipline every now and then, but something tells me you’ll be able to keep him in line.” He waggled a finger at her. _Am I his wife, or his keeper?_ Gamora thought, biting her tongue before she could let it slip. “He’s a bit of a flirt - got that from me, I’m afraid to admit - and he’s always going after girls who don’t have much...direction. When Thanos approached me, wanting to arrange a little something between you two, I honestly couldn’t be happier. After all, I figured he was the kind of man who knew how to keep his kids in check.” She felt the sudden urge to vomit. “ _You’re_ the kind of girl Peter needs in his life.”

“Am I the kind of girl he _wants_ , though?” she challenged, still vaguely nauseated. “You can't possibly discredit _all_ the women he’s ever been interested in based on one line of thinking. They could be quite valuable on their own merit. Besides, what he needs and what he wants can be very different things. As his father, I would imagine you have his best interests in mind.”

“That’s the thing about being a parent,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Kids don’t always know what’s best for them. You have to push them in the right direction. Make them see what they should _really_ want. I’ll bet ol’ Thanos is good at that, hey?”

Gamora fell silent at this as the doors to the dining hall came into view. An attendant that she had never seen before moved to open it for them, bowing deeply in greeting. She couldn’t help but shudder one last time as Ego swept into the room without sparing her another glance, and briefly wondered how he could possibly reconcile his parenting philosophy as the _right_ one.

She slid neatly into the chair between Peter and Nebula, the latter clearly sullen at being abandoned in the guest wing. As the servers began setting out large platters of fruit and bread to start, Peter carefully nudged her arm. “Hey,” he said softly. “Did Dad say anything to you just now?”

“Oh, he had _plenty_ to say,” Gamora muttered. She bit harshly into a piece of buttered sourdough, the satisfying crunch of its crust satiating her need to break something at that very moment. “I see where you inherited your talkative... _spirit_. You would have thought I hadn’t accepted your proposal yet, with the way he was going on and on about the kind of man you are.”

“Oh, god,” Peter groaned, slapping a hand over his forehead. “Well. That’s...super embarrassing.”

“I was also unaware you were immortal,” she continued, spearing a piece of fruit with her knife. “I should’ve assumed, what with my limited knowledge of Celestial genetics, but I wasn’t sure if your Terran side canceled it out. Regardless, I think we should have a further discussion about your powers before we develop our plans. They would definitely come in handy in a fight.”

“I don’t like it.” He broke his bread roll in half with more force than she had seen anyone handle bread before, watching it crumble to bits between his fingers. “It sounds cool at first, being immortal. But then you realize it means losing the people you love. And not just once, and not just one group of people, but...everyone you ever meet. Over, and over, and _over_ again. Someday, I’m gonna wake up, and…” His eyes flickered across the table, where his sister was currently nibbling on her toast, lost in her book. “...and Mantis won’t be there anymore. I’ll have to watch my little sister get old while I stay exactly the same.”

“That does sound difficult,” she admitted. She found herself at a loss for words again, unsure of how to respond when Peter became so melancholy. For someone who came across as very easygoing, his unexpected display of emotions always caught her off-guard. Her eyes went to the head of the table where Ego was sat, a full spread of food already waiting for him, his gaze roaming greedily across the selection as he filled his plate with pastries and meat. “I know you already showed us the training facilities, but are any of the spare rooms in your quarters suitable for combat? We can’t risk your father coming across us while we practice if we’re to pretend we’re unaware of his plans.”

“Right, good idea,” he nodded, brightening a little. “I can shuffle some stuff around, clear some space. When do we start?”

“Oh, Peter,” Ego called across the table very suddenly, as if he had a thought so important that he needed to interrupt the second it came to fruition. Gamora suspected he thought _every_ idea of his needed to be heard. “I can’t believe I haven’t asked already! Have you decided on a wedding date yet?”

“Um.” Peter glanced at Gamora in uncertainty. That was one discussion they had left out of the conversation entirely - their actual wedding. “Next week?”

“That soon? It should be a whole _week’s_ worth of festivities, a celebration for our people to partake in, with esteemed guests from across the galaxy! Nothing’s too good for my boy,” Ego boasted. Mantis shriveled a little in her seat, though her nose was still buried in her novel. Gamora wasn’t sure if she had seen Ego even address Mantis’s presence since he had returned from his trip. “We’ll need a little more time than a week, Peter.”

“Yeah, but...I think Gamora would prefer a _small_ wedding, Dad,” Peter hinted. “Making it a big deal would be a bad idea, especially if we invite people from all over the galaxy, considering her... _reputation_.” He glanced at her quickly to make sure he hadn’t caused any offense, but she seemed to have understood his meaning.

“Not even married yet, and you’re already listening to your wife. Attaboy.” Ego pounded a fist against the table triumphantly, causing the dishes surrounding him to rattle. “I told you, Gamora, he’s a good one. I raised him right.”

“I’m certainly...impressed,” she said weakly, though inside, she couldn’t help but contemplate the number of ways she could hurt Ego with the butter knife she was currently holding.

“Well then, next week it is,” Ego grinned. “Though we gotta have _some_ guests, Peter, it can’t just be the people living here...”

It was another hour before breakfast was finally over - or rather, Ego had finally stopped listing off every person of status he’d ever met - and the two of them slipped away, back to Peter’s quarters to clear out one of the spare rooms. “This used to be a playroom,” Peter explained at Gamora’s raised eyebrow regarding the dinosaur posters. “All this junk, it’s mostly just boxes of old toys and books, but we can put ‘em in my study for now.”

They worked in amicable silence for the next thirty minutes, shuffling boxes upon boxes of things down the corridor into the study, before returning to the now-empty playroom, collapsing on the floor to rest, their backs barely propped up against the wall. “You really do live a life of excess, don’t you,” Gamora commented. “You wouldn’t think one single person could occupy this much space, own _that_ many things.”

“Well, it’s not _exactly_ a charmed life,” Peter shrugged. “Sure, I'm certainly not down on my luck. But my dad still has his moments, whether it’s with me or with Mantis. And it’s not like all this... _stuff_ makes it any better. All I really need is my sister, my people, and this.” He unearthed a small rectangular object from his belt that she had never seen before, as it was mostly obscured by the long capes and jackets he always wore. It looked to be an old-fashioned piece of technology, something that likely came from his native Terra.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s my Walkman. It’s a music player.” He held it out for her to take, his gaze softening as she delicately turned it over in her hands, tracing her long fingers over the white lettering. The paint looked brand new despite the slightest dent in the casing. She wondered if he occasionally repainted it by hand, or maybe used his Celestial abilities to repair it somehow. Clearly, it was his most prized possession. “It was my mom’s. She made these mixtapes of songs that she loved and wanted to share with me. We’d go out to this big field by our house, lay down in the grass, and listen to them over and over again until I knew every word, and then again so I could sing along. It’s...the only thing I have left of her.” He swallowed thickly.

“You loved your mother.” It wasn’t a question. Gamora ran the pad of her thumb over the buttons, careful not to press anything. Music was just one of many luxuries she could never afford. Maybe it was something she could indulge in while she was here, what with the kingdom being so “lax”, as Peter had described it. “You mentioned yesterday that you weren’t sure if you loved your father.”

“It’s not really something I like to dwell on. Why?”

“Because there’s a strong chance that this plan of ours will only find its conclusion in your father’s death.” She placed the Walkman back in his lap, her gaze traveling to the wall opposite them. It was now barren, devoid of movie posters and yellowed newspaper clippings. “And I have faith in you, Quill, I surprisingly do. But I’m starting to doubt that you’ll be able to follow through if you do, in fact, love him. I need to know that I can count on you.”

To her dismay, Peter immediately scrambled to his feet, stumbling backward like she had shot him. “That’s _not_ what we agreed on!” he hissed. “You said you weren’t gonna go along with Thanos’s plans, but that’s _exactly_ what he told you to do!”

“Quill - ”

“Oh, I see how it is now!” he exclaimed. “You’re just trying to convince me that I’m working _with_ you, not _for_ you!”

“I thought I made it obvious that your father would have to die. I’m not trying to convince you of _anything_ but of your belief in _me_. Please, just _listen_ to me,” Gamora begged, beginning to sense a ripple of unease in the air - or at least, that’s what she thought it was, until she noticed the tendrils of lights seeping in between his fingers, swirling tauntingly around his clenched fists. She got to her feet as well, holding out her hands in caution. “Quill…”

“I must be freaking insane to not see what was going on until now,” he muttered, and she suspected it was mostly to himself. He released his fists, though she got a glimpse of the grooves his fingernails had left in his palms, deep enough to draw tiny pinpricks of blood. Swerving on his heel, he stormed off towards the door, continuing to mumble under his breath as he did.

“Quill, don’t you _dare_ go anywhere.” In one swift motion, Gamora yanked a small blade out of her holster and flung it towards him with the utmost precision, watching as it landed mere inches away from the doorknob. He startled with a yelp before spinning back around to face her.

“No, you know what? I’m not insane, _you’re_ insane! He’s my father. He’s blood. Did you forget that whole thing where I said everyone else on this planet will _die_ if _he_ does? Or do you just not care? How is the plan a success if we end up killing all of _my_ people, and how do I know you’re _not_ gonna string me up and gut me like a fish the _second_ this is all over?” he spat, striding over to her with a dangerously luminescent glow in his eyes. She was alarmed to see a reflection of the cosmos in his pupils, swirling masses of the deepest blues and the darkest purples. “You must think I’m a frickin’ idiot for not realizing until now!”

“Before you start throwing around baseless accusations, I’d like to remind you that I never said this was going to be easy,” she said coldly, pulling another blade from her belt and pressing the tip of it into his throat, just enough to redden the skin, but not enough to bleed. “And you better step back. Before I get dangerous.”

To her surprise, he didn’t even blink. “I am _not_ letting my people down. I am _not_ killing Dad, and that’s final,” he murmured. His eyes were entirely blown out now, resembling endless pools of black ink. The whites of his eyes were completely gone.

Still, she stared him down in complete silence - now was not the time to let her fear betray her pride - and they both found themselves at a complete standstill, the tip of her blade still firm against his jugular, before she finally stepped back and stowed it away. “I should have known this wasn’t going to work,” Gamora said resignedly, turning away as Peter’s eyes faded to normal once more. “In what universe could I possibly trust a pampered prince to think of the bigger picture? To put his life on the line for the galaxy?”

“At the risk of _my_ people,” Peter repeated incredulously, watching her pace up and down. “Are you even listening to me?”

“All you ever _do_ is talk!” she shouted very suddenly, spinning back around to face him. He was beginning to get whiplash just watching her. “You have been sitting here in this shiny golden palace of excess your _entire_ adolescence, and you never once thought about fighting back against your father for what he does to you? To your beloved sister? Never considered what would happen if one day, he decided to do the very same to your _people_?”

“You think I don’t think about that?” he snapped, stalking over to the windows, jabbing a pointed finger outwards. “Every single time I go out there and I meet with my people, when I speak to them and ask them about their days, their worries, and what _I_ can do to help with the hilariously tiny amount of power I _actually_ hold in this kingdom - I always wonder what would happen if they knew the kind of man my father is behind closed doors. Would they _actually_ run like I said they would? Or would they stand and fight? And I doubt dear old _Dad_ would wait around long enough to find out. But that doesn’t lead me to thinkin’ about _killing_ him!”

“If you want to wait until your father crosses the line, you go right ahead.” It was now her turn to finally walk away, yanking the knife out of the door as she did. Gamora paused in the doorway, her head slightly turned, though she refused to make eye contact. “See how many people he hurts, how many he _kills_ , before you realize what you should have done all along. It’s taken me _too_ long to realize what I have done in the name of Thanos. To realize that the consequences of my choices are far greater than the consequences of what would happen to me and me alone, had I refused to carry through. And I don’t ever want another innocent being to die by my actions - or _inaction_ \- ever again. I have sworn to myself to never become the person I am known to be any longer, and if that means having to sacrifice one planet to save the galaxy, then I will do it. If you don’t agree, well...you’ll have to kill me in order to stop me, your highness.”

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Peter standing there, open-mouthed and utterly speechless.

* * *

“Already screwed up, and you known her for _how_ long?”

Peter groaned, slumping across his desk in defeat. “Now isn’t the time, Yondu.” He had wasted the entire day yesterday, moping around in his quarters. He hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of Gamora since she stormed out on him. From what the attendants had told him, she seemed to have slept in the guest wing last night, and never left for meals or her so-called rigorous exercise regimen. Ego was starting to get a little antsy in response, asking whether they were already in need of marriage counseling.

He wasn’t exactly sure why it had gone so wrong so fast. Maybe he was being idiotic, assuming that Gamora’s plans were entirely different from Thanos’s endgame. Maybe he _should_ have seen that his father had to die on the path to peace. But maybe, just maybe, he was trying to be optimistic in a situation where no one else wanted to be. As complicated as his feelings about Ego had become over the years, death had never seemed like the answer until now.

And Gamora - he had thought they were making progress before when they had engaged in combat in the gardens, a moment of levity in spite of the heavy implications of what they were preparing to do. There was a playful fierceness in her demeanor, something warm, yet powerful all at once. It was the smirk on her face that gave him hope that they were on their way to becoming true allies, maybe even proper friends. Now, it seemed like they had gotten a closer look at each other, and neither of them liked what they were really seeing.

“Well, when _is_ the right time? Because as far as you and your daddy are concerned, you’re getting married in six days,” Yondu retorted, settling into one of the cushy armchairs with a satisfied exhale. He yanked his yaka arrow from his belt and began poking at the fire, watching the flames flicker in something of a dance. “You know he ain’t listening to you about keeping it small, right? I seen bits and pieces of that guest list o’ his, and it’s like he invited the whole dang galaxy! Don’t get me started on all the appointments and crap he got me schedulin’ for you.”

“You sure you can’t get me out of it? Gamora and I aren’t exactly in the mood, in case you haven’t noticed,” Peter grumbled. “I’d be surprised if she hasn’t run screaming from this place already. I know I would.”

“Well, if the whole idea of this damn planet hasn’t scared her yet, I doubt anything else will. She’s tough, that girl. She ain’t going nowhere without a fight.” Yondu turned slightly in his seat to better observe Peter. “What’d I say about moping, boy, ‘cause this ain’t over. Ego’s got the chefs presenting the wedding menu at tonight’s dinner, and he’s gonna pay a personal visit to Gamora’s room if that’s what it takes to drag her outta there. You really wanna let him do that? I seen the way he talks to her, it ain’t right.”

“Well, she’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want anything to do with me, so what do you want _me_ to do about it?” Peter complained.

“Apologize, you dumbass,” Yondu said incredulously. “Get her on your side again. If you don’t, who knows what she’ll do. Y’know, you’d think with all them teachings about political strategy you had as a kid woulda done you some good. C’mon, Quill, I’m your advisor, not your conscience. Do I gotta think of _everything_ around here?”

Peter couldn’t help but smile as he sat up a little straighter. “Only when I can’t be bothered.”

* * *

“Thanos has requested your attention.”

Gamora looked up from her work in surprise, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the hologram that had suddenly appeared in front of her. Nebula, who was sprawled across the couch on the opposite side of the coffee table, merely groaned as if it were just a minor inconvenience, before rolling over to face the screen as well.

“What does Father want?” Nebula said snidely to The Other, who, as always, had his head tilted at an angle, his hood concealing his face almost entirely in shadow. There had been a time where both sisters thought him to be a monster, but now, he was little more than a warning beacon for what, or rather _who_ was to come. “As we’ve already told you, we barely scratched the surface of this stupid planet because Gamora had a spat with her _betrothed_. It’s not my fault she likes to play with her food.”

The Other’s face vanished, instantly replaced with Thanos, who was scowling rather impressively. Nebula flinched, curling into the crease of the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. “So I’ve heard. Have you learned _anything_ at all? Four days, and you’ve given me _nothing_. Do you really want to disappoint me like this, Gamora?”

“We are to be wed in six days, Father, but I can tell that Quill already trusts me,” Gamora replied, her voice as steady as she could manage. She held up the drawing she had been working on. “I’ve almost completed a map of the palace, but there are some areas that remain unknown, even to Ego’s children. I’ve also learned that he sometimes punishes them with his abilities. I suspect neither Quill nor Mantis have a strong emotional attachment to him because of it, so it should be easy to persuade them to help kill their father. Quill also seems interested in improving his Celestial powers and becoming their only leader, so overthrowing Ego was probably on his agenda, anyways. Having him join us in our quest to conquer the galaxy should be simple, provided we give him the illusion of real power.”

Nebula’s eyes widened in confusion before she realized what Gamora was trying to accomplish, and found herself surprisingly impressed. Even _she_ was starting to believe in what her sister was saying, despite knowing the full extent of her argument with Peter and the circumstances in which it had come about in the first place.

“Excellent,” Thanos said, leaning back far enough that his shoulders came into frame. Somehow, seeing him on a screen made him no less intimidating than when he was towering over them on his throne. “I always said you were my favorite child for a reason, Gamora. No one else could have learned so much in so little time, and no one has my trust more than you. You have done well, my child. You should be grateful that I have bestowed this honor to you.” Nebula turned away entirely to fixate on the back of the room, suddenly fascinated by the floral arrangement by the bed, unsure of whether she wanted to hear another word.

“I _am_ grateful, Father,” Gamora lied. “And when will you be arriving?”

“Oh, I won’t be at the wedding,” Thanos laughed. It was unsettling to hear such unbridled joy in his voice, the hairs on the back of Gamora’s neck prickling at the sound. “I have other matters to attend to, far more important than a _wedding_. I will come calling once Ego requests my presence, and only then will we set our plan into motion. In the meantime, continue to gather all the intel you can on the Celestials. Find out what makes them tick. And warm them to you, Gamora. This will only work if they believe you’re on their side.” Without so much as a goodbye, he disappeared, the hologram vanishing with an abrupt _bzzt_.

“Always love talking to daddy dearest,” Nebula drawled, finally rolling over to look at her sister once more. “Are you done batting your eyelashes at him yet?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I hardly told him _anything_ ,” Gamora snapped, shoving the communicator aside. “I didn’t tell him the planet would perish with Ego’s death, or about Mantis’s empathic abilities. Most of what I said was blatant lies and you know it, Nebula, so don’t you dare accuse me of _anything_.” She spread her drawings out further across the table so she could let her sister see the ones she had kept tucked away from Thanos’s watchful eye. “Quill doesn’t believe in his father, I can tell that much. He might be defensive of him, but he doesn’t think he’s a good man, either. And from what he’s told me, the biggest reason he’s holding back from killing Ego is because it would result in the death of his people. So if we want him to work with us again...we need to find a way to evacuate this planet as well.”

Nebula snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Gamora shot her another dirty look before continuing. “We have to get Quill back on our side, _fast_ , before he decides that I’m a danger to his people and reports us to his father. We may be unmatched in fighting ability, but we’ll be powerless once the Celestial light comes into play.”

“You really think Quill would expose us like that?” Nebula said uncertainly, moving to kneel beside Gamora on the plush carpet. She began tracing her fingers across the sketches, processing the depictions of hiding spots and doorways to rooms that didn’t seem to exist.

“If he thinks we’re going to destroy this planet, yes, I think he would. His loyalty is to his people, not his crown. And you said just as much before, he’s irrational at his very worst. Honestly, even if he _does_ eventually agree to killing his father, it doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind later on. We have to make it worth his while.” Gamora let out a defeated sigh. “Evacuating the entire planet...it’s nearly impossible. It’s beyond anything we’ve ever done before. But if we don’t at least try, we’ll never be able to convince Quill to join us again, and I hate to say it, but we can’t do this without his knowledge _and_ his power.”

Nebula also slumped a little in exhaustion, shuffling the drawings back together listlessly as she considered her response. “Fine. But we are wasting our time here,” she said, waving her arms around in dismay at their surroundings. “If you’re so desperate to get him to listen to you again, then why are you hiding in _my_ room?”

 _Knock-knock._ The girls exchanged curious looks before Gamora stood, walking cautiously towards the door with her hand on her utility belt. “Who is it?” she called.

“It’s Peter. Quill. Uh, Peter Quill.”

“What impeccable timing,” Nebula muttered.

“What do you _want_ , Quill?” Gamora hissed, rocking back on her heels in caution. Nebula shot her a look of pure derision - really, _this_ was her strategy for getting Peter to help them again?

“Well, uh, for you to open the door. That’d be a great start.” There was a pregnant pause. “Also, I really think we should talk. About all that stuff we said to each other yesterday. Stuff we both probably regret. Well, at least I regret. I don’t wanna put words in your mouth, you probably hate that. See, there I go again - ”

“ _Quill_.” Gamora yanked the door open, more out of annoyance than anything, and was startled by the uncharacteristically bashful expression on his face. He stepped into the room, giving Nebula an awkward wave in greeting, before gesturing towards the veranda.

“Can we maybe talk out there? In private?”

“I can take a hint,” Nebula sighed, getting to her feet. “Try not to kill each other. I don’t want to deal with the smell.”

Gamora rolled her eyes, muttering some choice words under her breath before stepping outside. It was rather ornate for a guest room’s balcony, though really, every square inch of the palace was dripping with luxury, the exception apparently being Peter’s quarters. It was detailed with gold carvings and glossy tile flooring just like every other room, featuring a set of velvet loveseats that overlooked the vast emptiness surrounding them, filled only with lush, multicolor foliage that occupied space that otherwise lacked _people_. Gamora was used to sparse environments - after all, Sanctuary was nothing but a void made of rock and stars - but it was the saturation of color combined with the lack of sound that left her a little disoriented.

“What is it, Quill? Would you like to accuse me of wanting to kill you for the _third_ time?” She leaned over the railing, gazing out to the horizon. She felt like if she looked at Peter’s face for too long, the urge to punch it would be too hard to resist.

“I have a bunch of things to say, actually,” Peter admitted. “Um, but not that. First, I wanted to warn you about Dad coming to talk to you about tonight. I know you kinda hate me right now, but I figured you’d rather hear it from me than from him.”

“Tonight? What about tonight?”

“Like I said, Dad goes kinda crazy when big events happen, and they don’t happen very often. Seems like the spectacle begins tonight,” he replied. His fingers were drumming out an indefinable beat on his thighs, glowing very slightly as he did. “That thing where we make it super obvious we had a fight? We can’t afford to do it again, and not when other people are around, too. I think if he suspects that something ain’t right? He’s gonna use it as an excuse to go after _your_ dad.”

“That sounds incredibly petty,” Gamora said with a mocking chuckle. “And is _that_ your idea of an apology? Begging for my compliance?”

“I’m getting to it, you didn’t let me finish,” he protested. “I’m...sorry I called you insane. And accused you of wanting to kill me. I guess I just thought, in that moment, that my instincts were wrong. Like I couldn’t trust you like I thought.” He paused to sit on one of the loveseats, propping his elbows up on the railing, though he kept his gaze outwards as well. “I still don’t agree with you about what to do about Dad, but I shouldn’t have said all those things. I don’t think you’re crazy. Promise.”

“What _do_ you think of me?” She began twisting the silver rings on her fingers, almost hypnotized by the way they caught the eerily orange-red glow of the planet’s sunlight. For a moment, they looked as if they were drenched in blood. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I think you’re brave,” he offered with a tentative smile. Gamora’s fingers paused in mid-motion. “For what you’re doing here. All that stuff you said about the kind of person you want to be, that’s what really got to me. It’s why I came here to talk. And I do still wanna help, I believe in what you’re doing, I just...there’s gotta be another way.”

She resumed her movements, albeit much slower than before. “What if we evacuated the planet beforehand? Would _that_ change your mind?”

“That’s impossible,” he countered almost instantly. “We might be a small planet, but that’s still two _billion_ people you’re talking about.”

“And we have time. To talk about it, that is. To figure out the details.” Finally, Gamora turned her head to meet his gaze, though she chose not to sit next to him. It seemed too intimate. “Quill, I...I realize I shouldn’t have been so blunt, and _mean_. Your inexperience with violence is what makes you a _good_ ally, not a bad one. It’s not the kind of experience anyone should _want_ to have. And I went into this expecting that you hated your father as much as Nebula and I hate ours. You seemed so willing to help that I just assumed you understood my intentions. But as you’ve said before, our feelings towards Thanos are much less complex compared to yours for Ego. We know we’re only valuable to Thanos because he _made_ us that way. At least Ego seems to care about you outside of your abilities, to a certain extent.”

“It does make things harder,” Peter admitted. “Kind of an understatement, right? But...I’m glad we could talk about this. I think we understand each other better now, right? And we need to be united if we’re going to pull this off.”

“I agree,” she replied, giving him the barest of smiles. “Letting our personal feelings get in the way will be of no use to anybody. We can find compromise where we can, sure. But we can’t let sentiment be our downfall.”

He gave her a curious look then, something she couldn’t quite place. She mulled over her own words, wondering what it was that she had said that had caused such an odd reaction, before being interrupted by another knock at the door. Peter winced in anticipation before standing, making his way back into the room to greet the newcomer. “Dad...he-e-ey, what’re you doing here?”

Ego swept into the room (as he did with any room), cape swirling about at his ankles, arms thrown wide. “Well, I could ask _you_ the same question, son. Come to fix things with the wife, have you?”

Gamora winced a little at the way he had referred to her. Had he already forgotten her name? “It was just a small spat, your highness. I overreacted. I’m still...unused to being around people so often. It won’t happen again,” she promised.

“Understandable,” Ego nodded sagely. “You should move back to Peter’s quarters, then. After all, it’ll be yours as well in about six days.” He winked before turning to fully face his son, missing the disgusted look she shot Nebula, who was, once again, lounging on the couch like she owned the place, unperturbed by his presence. “Have you told her about dinner tonight? We’ve got a special guest joining us, and she’s coming from quite the distance. She’s looking forward to meeting your girl in particular.”

“Is that really a good idea, though? I mean, we’ve got so much wedding stuff going on, and - ” Peter began, but was quickly cut off.

“Nonsense! She’s in the area on business anyways. She’ll be here tonight, leave for work in the morning on a planet a few hundred clicks over, and return for the wedding.” Ego chuckled good-naturedly, clapping Peter on the shoulder.

“I meant for _Gamora_ ,” Peter stressed, wincing a little at the sudden contact. “Dad, c’mon. The more people we invite to this thing, the bigger chance there’ll be a problem. Can we at least look at your guest list? It is _our_ wedding.”

Ego let out a long-suffering sigh, his hands coming to rest on his belt as he tilted his head in consideration. “Alright, son. You’ve gone and twisted my arm. Tomorrow morning, before you two meet with the decorator, got it?”

“Yes, _thank you_ , Dad, that would be awesome,” Peter grinned, relieved, grabbing Ego’s hands and squeezing them between his. “That’s all we need, I promise.” Ego let out a merry laugh one last time before letting go, stepping out of the room without a parting sentiment or even a second glance at Gamora and Nebula. Peter turned back to look at the girls with a triumphant smile, arms spread wide. Gamora immediately thought of Ego and wondered if Peter realized how much of his physical mannerisms had been inherited from his father. “Well, that’s the best I can do, I guess. I hope that was okay. He...really didn’t wanna even _look_ at you for some reason.”

“It’s simple. He believes our only true value is in our father, who isn’t here,” Nebula snorted, lazily fanning herself with one of Gamora’s drawings. “Keep up, Quill. You’re only _pretending_ to be stupid, aren’t you?”

“Do you know who the dinner guest is?” Gamora asked him, ignoring her sister’s jabs as she snatched the paper out of her hand.

“No idea. He likes to talk up just about anybody. He did it all the time when Mantis and me were kids. He used to take us with him on trips and wanted to impress us with all the ‘important people’ he knew. It’s probably just the same kind of crap,” Peter shrugged. “So, we’ve got eight hours to kill before dinner. What should we do now?”

“I have some schematics drawn up in case of a battle,” Gamora offered, holding up her sketches. “Why don’t we discuss this in your quarters, with the others?”

He clapped his hands together in triumph, another oddly Ego-esque tic that made her a little nervous. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

“Say, Quill. What kinda tech you got lying around here on this planet?” Rocket asked. He was perched on the back of the couch opposite him, tossing a screwdriver head back and forth between his paws without looking down. Peter still wasn’t sure what to make of the other members of the Titan group just yet, but he brightened a little at the word ‘tech’. That, he could get behind.

The entire group had gathered in his private sitting room for the first time, as they had originally intended to do, noticeably divided by their allegiances. Peter was flanked by Yondu and Mantis as he often was, while Gamora and Nebula were sitting across from him, with Drax and Groot stood directly behind them, Rocket sat by Gamora’s shoulder. She seemed nonchalant about his screwdriver tossing, possibly even entirely unaware of it.

At last, Peter was starting to feel a little more confident about the whole situation, though there was no denying he was still fraught with nerves at how it could all go wrong. It was one thing to speak out of turn and get pierced by the light for an hour or two. It was something else entirely to try and take down two regimes in one fell swoop, especially with people he had yet to understand. He was admittedly still the slightest bit hesitant about Gamora, though his general respect for her had returned. Nebula seemed to be a never-ending source of snark, and the others? It was too soon to tell. Hell, Peter was doubting _himself_ in this whole situation. He knew how to fight, sure, but it didn’t make him a _fighter_. Knowing how to take a punch and knowing how to kill a god - not exactly congruent concepts.

“Not much,” Peter admitted. “Dad likes to keep things organic. Says he always understood plants better than computers. I’ve got devices of my own that I’ve lifted from other planets, but nothing _too_ advanced.”

“You... _steal_...things?” Rocket said slowly, surprised. “Some kinda prince _you_ are. I’m almost impressed.”

“I go looking in places where people leave things behind,” Peter corrected him. “Junkyards, abandoned vaults. I’m more of a scavenger, alright? Thievin’ is more Yondu’s thing.”

“Really?” Rocket’s crimson gaze flickered towards him, observing him in a way that made him squirm a little.

“You’re lookin’ at an ex-Ravager captain,” Yondu boasted. “But Ego, he paid real handsomely. Eventually offered me a permanent position here, along with some of my crew. Noticed me and Quill got along real good and decided I should keep an eye on him.”

“So this planet is full of beings with impressive histories of illegal activity. Good to know,” Nebula remarked. Gamora put a firm hand on her lap in warning.

“We have more important things to discuss,” Gamora interrupted, glancing around the room. Yondu still looked rather smug - though really, he sort of always did - while Mantis was smiling serenely, if a little uncertainly, her legs tucked neatly beneath her, hands folded in her lap. She felt guilty about assuming so little of Mantis, thinking that she would be no more than some vapid little princess - she clearly wielded much more power than Gamora and her people could have anticipated, wasn’t nearly as shy as she had first appeared. “I think we were too hasty when we first agreed to work together. From what I can tell, all of us, to some degree, didn’t realize what we were agreeing _to_. I realize this is a lot to ask when it’s clear there’s still a lack of trust between our people, especially you towards us. And I understand why. Nebula and I...we have reputations that precede us. They will forever be a part of who we are, though hopefully, not who we are today. And I’m hoping that by doing this, we can at least sleep a little easier from now on, knowing that we’ve helped stop Thanos from destroying billions of lives. So all I’m asking for right now is for you to listen. And decide whether to trust me...trust _us_...after I’ve finished.”

“Can’t guarantee I won’t interrupt,” Peter said half-jokingly, leaning forward onto his knees. “But go ahead.”

Gamora glared at him briefly before moving to spread out her drawings across the table between them. “I’ve mapped out the entirety of this palace according to its best locations for strongholds and exits, given the likelihood of a battle taking place here. Chances are, Thanos will ambush once he’s devised a plan to control your father, and he will send his forces by the thousands. The Chitauri, for one. Possibly the Black Order as well. He will also, of course, expect Nebula and I to return to his side. Granted, his arrogance will keep him from joining the fight. He thinks he’s too important to get involved, not unless he’s truly needed. So when he begins his attack, he might not even be physically here for _us_ to take him on as well.”

“But he is coming here at _some_ point, right? Or are we just gonna be sitting around, waiting for him forever?” Peter said dubiously.

“He’s actually waiting for Ego’s invitation, if you can believe it,” Gamora snorted. “He wants to play nice, further the illusion that this is nothing more than an alliance. He’s instructed us to gather more information on you in the meantime so he’ll be prepared by the time your father reaches out to him.”

“And what’ve you told him so far?” Yondu prompted. “You best not be spillin’ our secrets.”

Gamora held up a hand before Drax could protest against Yondu’s casual diction. After spending an unexpectedly lengthy amount of time in Peter’s presence, she had already gotten used to their oddly informal speech patterns. “Nothing that will change his mind,” she replied with a shrug. “I told him the basics of how this planet runs, what its purpose is. I explained some of Quill’s Celestial abilities. However, I’ve also disclosed next to no personal details. Instead, I’ve been feeding him lies that should keep him away. For now, at least.”

“The most important thing is, Thanos cannot find out that killing Father will destroy the Celestial power source,” Mantis said softly. It was the first time she had spoken since everyone had sat down. Her antennae remained unmoved, unlit, though Gamora couldn’t help but find her gaze wandering to them every now and then, wary of what they implied. “Otherwise, he will most definitely go after Peter instead, out of spite. It would break Father’s heart.” The wetness in her eyes told the others it would break hers as well.

Peter suddenly sat up, reaching across as if to grasp at Gamora’s hand but deciding against it at the last second. She eyed him in confusion. “Gamora...that’s it.”

“What’s it?” she asked urgently.

“Thanos won’t come here unless Dad asks him to, right? So maybe that works out in our favor. _That’s_ how we get both of them at once. You tell him you’re having trouble figuring out how it works or something. It gives us time to evacuate the planet slowly, not all at once. Then you tell Thanos that I told you how to control Dad’s powers, that he can do it the second he gets here. He’ll get here as soon as possible, and we let him...we let him kill Dad. Then the planet will die, and Thanos will die with it.”

“What?!” Yondu exclaimed, shooting up from his seat. “Since when was killin’ Ego part of this plan? I thought this was about making sure _no one_ gets killed!”

Peter swallowed, though the lump that was beginning to burn a hole in his throat refused to go away. “C’mon, Yondu. I don’t like the sound of it either, but it’s kinda become our only choice here. How do you think he’s gonna feel if we kill Thanos? You think he’s just gonna let me get away with it?” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yondu...you’ve been saying for years that he’s not a good man. Remember when you first picked me up on Terra? You said, ‘I’m taking you to your daddy, but I’m warning ya, he’s a bit of a jackass’. And I agreed with you at first, because I just knew him as the guy who left my mom. But some days, I...I don’t know what to think.”

“That don’t mean we gotta kill him!” Yondu protested. “Wasn’t too long ago, you were talking to Ego, asking him if you could go visit your precious Terra one day. And now you’re suddenly talking about murdering him?” He cocked his head in Gamora’s direction. “What voodoo does she have you under, huh?”

“ _Nothing_ , relax!” Peter said firmly, grabbing Yondu by the wrist and yanking him back down by his side. “Look, unless you can think of some way to keep Dad from coming after me after I _basically_ commit treason, then this is the best option. It’s not...the easiest thing to do, but it might be the _right_ thing. And I don’t wanna be the guy who always does the easiest thing, not anymore.”

Growling under his breath, Yondu directed his glare in Gamora’s direction, only to be surprised by her dark eyes looking back at him intensely, almost pleadingly. “Nebula and I have spent our entire adolescence being the dreaded monsters under the bed. The reason that children and families cannot sleep peacefully at night, whether they were our victims or our targets. But now, _we_ are the ones who are scared. Ego isn’t on the same level as Thanos, that much is true. And maybe it’s unfair of me to assume that he ever will be. I’ve been making a lot of poor assumptions lately,” she added, looking over at Peter briefly, who gave her a weak smile in return. “But we can’t afford to wait for him to get there when Thanos is ready to push him over the edge. And Yondu, Ego’s treatment of those under your care - they’ve already been hurt, over and over and _over_ again. Does that not deserve some sort of retribution? Revenge?” Yondu glanced down for a moment before looking to Peter and Mantis, who looked uncharacteristically despondent. “I don’t want Thanos to hurt anyone else any longer. That’s _all_ this is about for me. Do we not want the same thing?”

As much as he found himself agreeing with her, Yondu decided not to respond right away, instead focusing firmly on the children he had come to think of as his own. When they had been young and impressionable, Ego would be with them for hours at a time, showering them with affection, teaching them how to improve and control their abilities with the finest precision. He had been shaping the newly-christened kingdom as a benevolent god at the time, with Peter and Mantis acting as his good influences, his voices of reason.

Now that they were young adults - a very loose term, considering Mantis had only just turned eighteen - he was barely around, apparently having had his fill of parenting, leaving Yondu behind in his place. Yondu worried about them day after day, though he never said as much out loud. He worried that Peter’s confidence was turning into arrogance, that his all-loving nature was going to become borne of self-importance. He worried that Mantis’s sweet, giving nature would lead her down a path of submission and turn into an inferiority complex. Most of all, he found himself wondering what would happen if Ego were to ever pick up again, return in full force to direct their efforts towards something more...sinister.

“I remember a time when Quill was nine and Mantis was seven,” Yondu said gravely. “There was this real nice fountain out at the very front of the palace, kinda like the one in the garden. Had this big ol’ statue of - what else? - Ego himself. On top of his head, a real shiny crown, with a huge jewel to match. Some multicolor rainbow thing. Real pretty. One day, Mantis asks Quill if he would get the jewel for her. She wanted a pretty piece for her own crown, and Quill, he wasn’t good enough at his powers yet to make one for her. So, one night, they go out to the fountain. Quill gets to the top of the statue pretty easily. He turns to look at Mantis, ‘cause he’s proud, wants to show off a bit. Loses his balance and falls right down, smacks his head on the side of the fountain and knocks himself out cold. Mantis, she panics and jumps in after him, tries to drag him out but he’s too big and she’s too little, and now _she’s_ caught under his body from twistin’ around too much in the water. Suddenly, Ego shows up. He pulls ‘em both out with that damned light of his, hangs ‘em up by the collar. Don’t let ‘em down until he’s thrown ‘em into his study. Locks the door, and just...walks away. They don’t get to change clothes, don’t get to dry off. No bathroom or food or nothing in there for ‘em. Quill’s bleedin’ from a big ol’ gash in his head, Mantis still has too much water rattlin’ around in hers. Ego comes to breakfast the next morning and acts like nothing happened. Asks ‘em if they slept okay.”

Drax, to Yondu’s surprise, was the one who reacted first, emitting a guttural growl of anger, his fists tightening until his knuckles had gone white. The others looked properly horrified as well, while Peter and Mantis shivered at the memory. Mantis in particular still remembered frantically wiping Peter’s forehead, desperate to stop the bleeding, and crying out when the door to the study had first opened, terrified that it was only going to get worse.

Gamora turned to pat Drax placatingly on the forearm, her eyes glossy, before looking back to Yondu. “How did you know what happened that day?” she asked gently. “I imagine Quill and Mantis didn’t describe it like that, not after that kind of trauma.”

Yondu let out a hollow chuckle. “Because Ego was standin’ right there the whole time, watching it happen. I snuck into his study to clean ‘em and patch ‘em up, bring water and blankets. When I walked out, Ego was waitin’ for me, wantin’ to tell me what he saw. Was just some funny story to him, I guess. ‘Those kids are gonna be the death of me, Yondu’. At breakfast, the kids are quiet. Shaking like mad, can’t eat a damn thing. All I can do is stand there and watch as Ego asks ‘em if they wanna go swimming later.”

Gamora could feel her own breakfast turning in her stomach at the very thought. Her mind called to a memory of Thanos, the first time she had disobeyed him. It was hardly the worst thing he had done to her in retrospect - no, the worst was yet to come - but it was still burned into her brain like it was yesterday. She had been tired, _too_ tired to continue training, and requested to go to bed early. In return, he had tied her up, sat her down next to him, and began taking Nebula apart for the second time that week, her anguished cries carrying on for hours until she had fallen silent. Impulsively, Gamora’s hands went to Nebula once more, this time grabbing her out of solidarity rather than of warning. “And?” she whispered.

“And so I’ll help,” Yondu said darkly. “I ain’t putting up with that bastard no longer. I spent too long doing shady jobs for him, and sitting around on my ass while he hurts these two don’t make me any better, either. So maybe you’re onto something after all, Gamora.”

She smiled a little at the use of her name, nodding in appreciation, before turning to Mantis. “And what about you?”

“Father...it sometimes feels as if he does not really think of me as his child. Even before Peter’s arrival, he was mostly interested in my empathic abilities. If I did not have them...I suspect he would not have taken me in.” Mantis gave her a rueful smile, her antennae drooping slightly as she did. “It will not be a great loss for me, should we kill him. I do not think I would weep if he were gone.”

“And how ‘bout _your_ people? They all on board?” Yondu asked, gesturing at the figures lurking behind the sisters.

“We have pledged our loyalty to the Titan throne, that much is true,” Drax said fiercely. “But our true allegiance is to Gamora...and Nebula, I suppose. Not to Thanos. And not to his other children. They are cruel, merciless beings who do not deserve to live any longer. Not after what they have done. I look forward to crushing their skulls in battle.”

“Plus, we ain’t stupid enough to go against Gamora. Have you _seen_ the things she can do with that sword o’ hers?” Rocket snorted. Groot nodded gravely in agreeance, remembering a time when he had tried to take her on in combat training. It hadn’t ended well.

Peter glanced around the room anxiously, expecting to see anguish still written on everyone’s faces. He was pleasantly surprised to find that instead, the others looked steely-eyed and determined, if a little nervous. Maybe, just maybe, they would _actually_ be able to work together now that they had sorted out their grievances, and not die horribly violent deaths in the process. “Okay, well, if everyone’s on board, let’s figure out our plan…”

* * *

The sun was already setting by the time one of the palace’s attendants came knocking, carrying bundles of brand-new clothing that Ego apparently wanted Peter and Gamora to wear for dinner. The other Titans had slipped out before they could be seen, making a hasty retreat to the guest wing where they were supposed to be, while Yondu and Mantis remained behind, smiling absent-mindedly at the newcomer. “Thirty minutes, your highnesses,” the attendant informed them as Yondu shooed him away.

“And no clothes for you, Mantis?” he frowned. “Ego told me he was expectin’ you to be there too.”

“Yes, well.” Mantis could only shrug in response. It was hardly anything new for her. “I will go pick out something from my existing wardrobe, I suppose. See you at dinner.” She bowed her head gracefully before leaving Peter’s quarters as well. He watched his sister go, hoping that he would be able to make it up to her later.

Gamora emerged from her bedroom a few minutes later, wearing the form-fitted silky jumpsuit she had been provided, yanking repeatedly at the neckline in hopes it would sit where she wanted to, as it otherwise generously dipped much further than anything she had ever owned or would _like_ to own. “Is this your doing, Quill? I’ve been forced into _waist trainers_ more forgiving than this.”

Peter frowned at the sight of her. Although she admittedly looked fantastic, the discomfort on her face told him all he needed to know, and it didn’t sit well with him. “No, it’s not me - that would be Dad. Why the hell would - okay, you know what, I’m not gonna finish that sentence, because I don’t think either of us wanna think about it. I’ll grab you one of my formal jackets, okay?”

Once they were both appropriately dressed and (reluctantly) ready to go, Yondu escorted them to the dining hall in complete silence, the three of them casting nervous glances at the multitude of guards stationed down the length of every corridor. They certainly hadn’t been present the previous few nights when Gamora and the rest of her people had first arrived, so clearly, Ego thought _this_ guest to be someone of great importance, someone he wanted to impress. Speculation ran rampant through Peter’s mind, and it was only when they reached the enormous double doors that he finally managed to put two and two together.

Gamora froze instantly at the sight once she pieced it together as well, letting out a feral hiss and taking a step backward. She bent to reach for the blade she had hidden in her shoe. “What is this?” she snapped.

“Please, your highness, we mean no harm,” the Nova Corps officer said patiently, though the gloved hand resting on his blaster certainly wasn’t helping his case. “We’re only here as a precaution for her protection.”

“Protection from _what_?” Peter said incredulously. “From Gamora?”

“That’s not what I meant, your highness, my sincerest apologies - ” the officer blurted, bowing deeply.

“Except it is,” Gamora muttered. She took another step forward, her head cocked dangerously as she considered the poor Nova Corps officer who was now quivering in his place, just as Peter slid himself neatly between them. Yondu also leaped forward as if to drag him back, though he was eyeing the officer like he was about to bite.

“Hey, hey! None of that. Nobody’s killin’ anybody tonight, okay?” She glared up at him, absolutely murderous. Regardless, Peter found himself surprisingly unafraid. “Hey,” he whispered reassuringly, reaching as if to gently grasp her arm. She took another step back, the fire in her eyes turning into something else entirely - skittishness. He withdrew his hands immediately in surrender. “Hey, if things get bad in there with her and Dad, remember that I’m here too. And trust me, after everything we talked about back there - you should know that I’m on your side. Not his.”

Relenting, Gamora shoved the blade back into her boot and straightened up. “Fine, but I’ll only play possum if it gets us out faster. Give me your arm.” He looked at her in confusion before she yanked his arm outwards and looped hers with his, digging her fingernails a little too harshly into the crease of his elbow. “We have to pretend to be happily engaged, remember? It’s too early to start raising suspicion. So, have you met her before?”

“A few times. Dad always talks her up so she won’t look too closely into what’s going on around here or interfere with the politics.” Peter allowed Yondu to lead them inside, the latter still looking slightly disturbed at both the Nova Corps’ presence and Gamora’s sudden outburst. He strolled into the room, standing straighter than she’d ever seen him do before, and said cheerily, “Nova Prime! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am. You look wonderful this evening. Not a day over...I’ll stop myself right there before I get into trouble.”

Ego and Nova Prime stood from their seats at the head of the table, bowing in greeting. Mantis was sat several seats further down the table despite there being no other dinner guests in attendance, wearing one of her old dresses, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her antennae were twitching nervously above her as if she were desperate to do _something_ with them.

“And it’s always good to see _you_ , your highness,” Nova Prime beamed, reaching out to him. Peter gave Gamora a quick but encouraging smile before releasing her and walking over to the older woman, allowing her to squeeze his hands in affection. “You’re growing up to be quite the star prince, aren’t you? Your father’s been going on about how you excel at _all_ your royal duties. I’m so glad to hear it.”

 _What royal duties?_ Peter thought with a snort. “Ah, well, he has to say that, he's my dad,” he laughed, squeezing back before letting go. He took a step back so he could gesture towards Gamora, who looked unusually awkward, unsure of what to say or do. “Ma’am, allow me to introduce my lovely fiancée.”

“Ah, yes, Gamora.” To Gamora’s surprise, the warm, almost mischievous spark in Nova Prime’s eyes didn’t fade as she approached her, offering her hands as well. “How are you doing?”

“I - I’m doing quite well, Nova Prime,” Gamora said slowly, briefly glancing over at Peter in a panic before turning back to make proper eye contact, her fingers trembling with unease as she accepted the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You don’t have to be nervous, Gamora,” Ego called from behind Nova Prime, sweeping his hands out towards the table. As expected, it was set with golden dishware and cutlery, with cream-colored cloth napkins that boasted golden tassels, large vases of white roses, and a tablecloth made with golden thread. Gamora was starting to wonder how much gold her wedding dress was going to feature - and then winced at the prospect of _wearing_ a wedding dress to begin with. “I promise, we have no ulterior motives here. Please have a seat, and let us enjoy this wonderful meal our talented chefs have prepared for us. After all, we have plenty to discuss!”

“Discuss?” Peter echoed as he sat down next to Mantis, patting her hand briefly in greeting. She shot him a grateful smile as he did. Gamora looked along the length of the table, debating how best to play her cards without offending Ego’s... _ego_ , before sitting on Peter’s opposite, leaving a comfortable two-seat gap between her and the head of the table. “I didn’t know we were even _having_ a discussion, Dad.”

“Did you really expect that your marriage to Gamora here wasn’t going to lead to Nova Prime wanting to make a house call?” Ego let out a good-natured chuckle. “Don’t be naive now, Peter, it doesn’t suit you. Besides, it’s just a little bit of politics here and there - no legalese, strictly speaking - and then we can talk about whatever we’d like afterward. You can tell Irani about your proposal!” He turned to address her with a wink. “I’ve yet to hear the details myself, I’ve been so busy making arrangements. Can you tell I’m excited?”

Peter swallowed. Suddenly, Yondu’s talk of his political teachings was coming to mind again, and frankly, he was drawing a blank. “Right. In that case, can I get a drink to start?”

The first ten minutes of dinner dragged on horrendously, leaving Peter, Gamora, and Mantis restless in their seats. At least Peter had the excuse of the beer he had insisted on - meanwhile, the girls were sipping their water glasses like they had nothing better to do, and in that moment, they really didn’t. Ego seemed intent on sharing every last story he had about Peter’s childhood as a way of warming up their conversation, though no one else seemed to be talking, aside from Nova Prime humming in response every now and then.

While Gamora was vaguely interested in learning about her future husband’s past - not to understand his value as her ally, she had seen a great deal of it already, but simply to just know him a little bit better - she couldn’t help but think of Yondu’s story instead. Her heart burned with anger as she watched Ego talk passionately about a son he had quite literally abandoned while in pain. Peter had clearly been sugar-coating it when he first spoke of it to her. Whether to protect his father, to repress his own memories, to avoid scaring her away, or some combination of the three, she wasn’t sure. She could only imagine that Yondu had a number of other stories of similar incidents, maybe things that none of them wanted to speak of again. There were certainly stories of Thanos that she would never recount to _anybody_ , not even on her deathbed.

Gamora was also waiting for any sort of anecdote about Mantis, the ally she had seen or heard the last about. It became clearer with every passing hour that she was here that Ego barely regarded his daughter’s existence. Nebula could probably relate, what with the way Thanos openly referred to Gamora as his favorite while making a mockery of Nebula in the same breath. Even if Nebula won a fight, he would often make some scathing comment about how Gamora must have taken pity and allowed her to win.

“Now, Gamora, I know seeing me must disturb you greatly,” Nova Prime said with a knowing glance over her appetizer. “But I promise, this is no test. No tricks from me. I’m actually here to discuss the state of your criminal record.”

“And how is that not a trick?” Gamora retorted flatly. Ego looked offended at her hostile tone, but Nova Prime merely smiled in return, setting her knife and fork down in a display of passiveness.

“Because I’m offering you a second chance. A clean slate, if you will. Think of it as a bit of a bonus for marrying into the Celestial family,” Nova Prime chuckled. “As long as you never commit another crime and remain faithful to the throne you now serve, your record will remain blank. As if nothing ever happened.”

“The things that I’ve done, it wasn’t _nothing_.” Gamora stabbed a piece of her salad with her fork. “That ‘nothing’ you speak of is what makes people run in fear at the very mention of me. Being legally cleansed of my sins does nothing for my reputation... _or_ my guilt.”

“We can make it public,” Nova Prime offered. “ _Very_ public. I’ll be the first to stand by you, Gamora. And knowledge of your marriage to Prince Peter will spread. He’s known for his good heart, and if the people believe he truly cares for you and supports you as well, then their perception of you will eventually change, too. As long as you remain allied to the Celestials, that is.”

Gamora’s mouth twisted in derision, her fingers tightening around her fork. It was starting to bend in the palm of her hand, leaving dents in her flesh. None of this was going to matter in a few months (or however long it would take) anyways, was it? She and Peter would part ways after taking down their respective fathers. He would be lauded as a hero, while _she_ would probably have to go into hiding. Sakaar was starting to sound pretty cozy. “I have yet to do anything that proves my loyalty, so why are you bothering to offer me this ‘second chance’?”

“Sometimes, the offer is all it takes,” Nova Prime said gently. “I want to believe in you, Gamora. You weren’t _born_ wanting to be a killer. You were turned into one under terrible circumstances. I can already see the difference right now, the effort you’re putting in. Who you were before, that’s not who you really are. It’s not who you want to be. And you’re still so young - you have so much ahead of you that you can’t even imagine yet. You can make a real, _positive_ difference in this world if you’re given the opportunity. Allow me to give you this opportunity, to do this for you. And your friends, too.”

“My subjects,” Gamora corrected, her voice thick with emotion. “My sister as well. I have a few requests to make, however. You will never pursue my people with the intent to arrest or harm them again, so long as they abide by your laws. You will also lift the ban that prevents Drax from returning to his homeworld. He’s been mourning his family from a distance for too long, has suffered in silence for as long as I’ve known him. Only then will I completely agree to your terms, Nova Prime.”

It was a sign of her extensive history as both leader and negotiator when she barely moved a muscle at Gamora’s demands. Ego, meanwhile, was looking increasingly irritated by the minute. “Understandable. Anything else?”

Gamora stood very suddenly, her cutlery clattering harshly against her plate as she did. “And you will not speak to me as if you know who I am ever again,” she said slowly. She turned and promptly ran out the door, the hem of Peter’s dinner jacket whipping in the air behind her in absence of her cape. Peter could only gape after in shock, open-mouthed, before shutting his jaw with a snap and looking back to his father. Ego was unexpectedly only shaking his head in disappointment, the heated flush in his face having vanished.

“Mantis, do you know why you’re here at the table tonight?” Ego sighed, rubbing his temples in slow circles.

“I - because I am part of this family,” Mantis replied uncertainly, though her heart sank, knowing it wasn’t the correct answer, or at least, the answer he was looking for.

“Well, yes. But you were also here to prevent things like _that_ from happening,” Ego said with a flick of his wrist in Gamora’s direction, his gaze cold. “Go after her, please. Bring her back. Let her know that outbursts like that will _not_ be tolerated if she’s going to be a part of this family.”

“Now, Ego, that was my fault entirely!” Nova Prime protested. “I shouldn’t have said all those things, it wasn’t my place - ”

“Please, Irani, you’re our guest. Think nothing of it. The girl should’ve known better, let Mantis go after her,” Ego said, suddenly switching into yet another jovial laugh, as if nothing had happened.

“Uh, how about _I_ go and get her?” Peter said timidly, holding up his hand like a schoolchild volunteering to read to the class. “She’s _my_ fiancée, after all.” With another exasperated sigh, Ego waved at him to get moving, and Peter left the dining hall immediately, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Unfortunately, Gamora was already long gone, nowhere to be found in the enormous main corridor, though the attendants quaking in their boots gave him enough indication of which direction she had headed off to. Peter went to the guest wing first, hoping she was at least with people she could trust. _He_ certainly had done a terrible job of keeping his short-lived promise to support her.

To his dismay, all he found in the guest quarters was the rest of the Titans engaged in a rather intense game of poker, screaming at each other from across the table over their cards, using bits of Groot’s bark as poker chips. He was half-tempted to join in, but he needed to find Gamora, _fast_ , and Drax looked like he was about to literally flip the table. Peter then went to his quarters, half-expecting to turn up unsuccessful as well - he mused quickly over where else she could possibly have gone. The gardens, maybe? - and found her sitting on the couch with her head in her hands, jacket tossed aside, bunched up in a heap.

“Gamora?” he said carefully, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Go away, Quill.”

“What - this is _my_ room. Uh, well, it’s gonna be _your_ room too - it kinda already is? - and I’m not helping, am I.” He groaned, rubbing his temples again before moving to sit in the armchair opposite her. “They want you to come back to dinner.”

“Could’ve figured that out on my own, thank you,” she drawled sarcastically, refusing to look up.

“Bu-u-ut, if you don’t wanna go back, I don’t blame you.” Peter undid the top button of his shirt as he spoke, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. He was honestly surprised Gamora hadn’t changed the second she got back to the room, what with both their outfits being so restrictive. “Nova Prime meant well and all, but I don’t think she realized how it sounded to _you_. Hell, _I_ can’t imagine what it sounded like to you.”

“I know nothing of people.” Gamora slowly lifted her head to stare him down. Peter was alarmed to see her eyes were entirely bloodshot, the minimal makeup that she had been wearing now smeared across her cheekbones like warpaint. “But I know I can’t stand the type who pretend they know _everything_ about people.”

“Not that we’re on the same level or anything, but that I _do_ kinda understand,” he offered. “Dad says all these things about me to other people like he knows who I am. Or maybe it’s just what he wants me to be. But the only people who’ve ever _really_ known me are Mantis and Yondu.”

“I wish I knew who I was,” she said quietly. “I know I’ve been talking extensively about who I was and who I want to be, but...what happens once this is all over? There’s no chance of me getting my ‘clean slate’ if we take out our fathers. I’ll still be hunted like an animal. For everything that I’ve done.”

“Gamora, I...I don’t need to know your entire history in order to trust you,” he said gently. “Because weirdly enough, after that awful fight of ours, I _do_ trust you now. At least, enough to start a pseudo-revolution with you.” She cracked a tiny smile at that. “But if you need someone to talk to...I know I let you down earlier. I should’ve, I dunno, cut in earlier before it was too late. Let me make it up to you. I’m a good listener, I swear.”

“I think…” Gamora let out a shaky breath, stretching out her fingers to relieve the stiffness in her clenched fists. “I think I’m done with this conversation. For tonight, at least. Besides, there’s no use in letting my pride get in the way of our mission.” She paused. “Actually, I’m...kind of hungry. But returning to the dining hall would only make things worse for me. I imagine your father is furious. I’d be surprised if he’s still on board with our marriage.”

“Forget him,” Peter scoffed. “Let’s just eat here. You and me.” He extended a hand, and for a wild moment, she thought he wanted her to take it. A thin, square cardboard box seemingly materialized out of nothing, hovering slightly atop the white light that had burst forth from his palm, before it settled itself down on the table between them. “Pizza?”

“What is it?” she said curiously, leaning forward to open the box and stare down into its contents.

“It’s a food from my native Terra. It tastes pretty awesome, but it’s not the healthiest thing in the world. But right now, I couldn’t care less, and I’m guessing you feel the same way.” Another snap of his fingers, and he had produced paper plates and napkins for two. She couldn’t help but be impressed once more - for someone who claimed to be amateurish at unlimited powers of creation, he was certainly doing a good job of hiding it. “So, dinner?”

Gamora smiled a little bit wider, accepting the plate he offered her. “Oh, why not. And...thank you, Quill.”

He glanced at her in awe. “I...for what? I totally let you down back there.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting much,” she teased. “Besides, you came through in the end. You did _just_ enough. And that’s all I can ask for.”

Peter snorted, shaking his head. “I did _just_ enough, hey? I think you just came up with my personal M.O.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this chapter was kind of incredibly long, but I wanted to lay down some exposition/framework so we can really get to business in the next chapter. Speaking of, I'm not 100% sure when I'll be posting Chapter 3 but I'm aiming for the first week of January so look out for that! You can also read this fic on [tumblr](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic%3A-rtw) if you'd like as well.
> 
> Thank you _SO_ much for all the lovely comments on the first chapter! I'm so glad you're enjoying it, and I hope this chapter was up to your expectations. As always, kudos and comments would be much appreciated, and I'll see y'all in the next one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We will find you acting on your best behavior...turn your back on mother nature..._

Gamora rose bright and early the next morning, unsurprised to find that she could hear the faint sounds of Peter’s snoring, even through the gilded double doors that had to be at least two inches thick. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sound, despite its more irritable qualities. She was already starting to pick up on the nuances and personality quirks of her fiancé, rather endearing oddities that made him so unlike the other noblemen she had encountered so far in her line of work. There was a predictability in his unexpectedness, if that made any sense at all, though she wasn’t about to tell him she thought he was sort of charming (when he wasn’t being frustratingly naive).

She slipped out into the sitting room, drawing her dressing gown a little tighter around her middle in case anyone happened to have entered Peter’s quarters, but it was vacant aside from the pizza box from last night still sitting on the coffee table, causing the entire room to smell vaguely of fried cheese. Gamora briefly debated the idea of heading to breakfast by herself, but she wasn’t exactly looking forward to facing Ego again, not after she had run from last night’s dinner. And Nova Prime - well, there went her chances of ever redeeming herself and her people. _Stupid_ , Gamora told herself. _You ruined everything for your people because of your own pride. You’re a warrior, not a child. Start acting like one._

Gamora knew she couldn’t afford to have another tantrum like that, lose control of herself and her anger because of how people saw her. Fighting with Peter when they were supposed to be allies, lashing out at Nova Prime for simply reading a little too much into her history - there was too much at stake for her to do anything remotely similar ever again. She was _so close_ to achieving a world in which Thanos would no longer exist, a world in which she and Nebula could finally be free. No more mistakes could be made.

“Morning.” Gamora startled at the sound of Peter’s voice, spinning on her heel to face him. How had she not heard him walk into the room? “Is everything okay? You’re just...standing there.” His voice was pleasantly deep, raspy from sleep, hair sticking up on one side rather comically. She bit back the urge to smooth it down. “Dad didn’t come around to talk to you, did he?”

“Thankfully, no.” Her own voice was raw from lack of use. She coughed sharply. “I was just lost in thought, don’t mind me.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered. “Like I said last night, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I _am_ your future husband, after all,” he added with a wink.

Gamora only gave him an impressive eye-roll in response, dropping her arms to her sides as the tension evaporated from her shoulders. “We should head to breakfast now, Quill, and see if I can salvage the mess I made last night. Ask for your father’s forgiveness and hope he doesn’t ban me from this planet the moment I step into the room.”

“Well, he has no right to,” Peter said, ruffling his hair, the curls becoming more unruly with every passing moment. “But if it comes to that, I’ll tell him that if you leave, then I’ll leave, too.”

“Quill,” she said quietly. “You don’t owe me anything from yesterday, okay? It was my temper that ruined everything. Don’t risk your relationship with your father to cover for _my_ mistakes.”

“I still don’t think you did anything wrong, but alright,” he conceded. “We should get going.”

After they both got dressed, they walked to the dining hall together, noting the absence of the attendants and guards that had lined the halls by the dozens just yesterday. Clearly, Nova Prime had already left the planet, might have even left immediately after realizing Gamora wasn’t returning to dinner. The sinking feeling in Gamora’s stomach grew stronger as they entered the room and saw Ego sitting at the head of the table with his hands clasped firmly in front of him. Mantis, Yondu, and Gamora’s people were nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, your highness,” Gamora said, sinking into a deep bow. “Please allow me to apologize for my outburst last night.”

He merely raised an eyebrow before unfolding his hands, waving her off. “Now, now, Gamora. Don’t you worry about a thing. Irani and I had a little chat after you left, and she felt bad about putting you in such an awkward position. I’ll admit, I overreacted myself. There’s no need to apologize.”

Gamora paused. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Ego chuckled. “Come on now, sweetheart. We can’t expect you to change overnight, after all.”

Peter winced. _Uh oh._ “Change, your highness?” Gamora said slowly. All semblance of submission in her posture vanished instantly in favor of what was starting to sound like the beginnings of a full-blown confrontation.

“If anything, _Peter_ should be the one apologizing, not you,” Ego said through a mouthful of pastry. “Do you have anything to say to me, son?”

Peter froze instantly, his eyes blown wide with fear. Gamora instinctively reached for him, but decided against it, knowing Ego would misinterpret her intentions. “I...I don’t...I’m not sure...what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

Ego sighed, taking a long drink from his mug before setting it back down on the table with a loud clatter. “Well, that’s just disappointing. I expected better from you, son. Now, I do recall I was supposed to let you look at the guest list, but I’m not so sure I want to do that anymore. I don’t like breaking my promises, Peter. But apparently, _you_ do.” Peter turned to look at Gamora with wild desperation, and she began mouthing the answer she knew Ego was looking for. Ego clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Ah, ah, no hints, sweetheart. Peter’s a grown man. He should be able to figure this out on his own.”

Peter’s heartbeat sped up tenfold, pounding so violently in his chest it was like he could physically feel it drumming against his ribcage. Gamora was now fixated on Ego with an apprehensive gaze. He still hadn’t answered her question, and she had a feeling he wasn’t even going to acknowledge what he had said to her. “I’m sorry...that...uh…”

“I don’t have all day, Peter,” Ego said cooly, draining the last of his drink. “And _you_ don’t, either. So if you don’t have a damn clue, both of you should just _sit down_ , eat breakfast, and be ready for our appointment with the decorator. He’ll be here in an hour with displays for us to look at.”

The two of them moved stiffly to their seats, Peter more shaken than Gamora. He stared at his empty plate for a full thirty seconds before Gamora dropped a bread roll in front of him, which seemed to wake him from his reverie. He kept his hands busy for the next minute or so, piling up food that she already knew he didn’t like to eat, as he continued to rack his brain for the answer. Gamora kept her gaze locked on Ego as she ate as calmly as she could, hoping he would look away long enough for her to tell Peter what his father was looking for.

There was something about Peter’s body language that disturbed her immensely, the tightness of his shoulders, the incessant tapping of his foot against the tile floor. She had already become so used to his improper posture, the way he moseyed about without a care in the world. After everything she had worried about just an hour ago, she had never anticipated Ego getting mad at _him_ instead. _You’re smarter than this, Gamora_ , Thanos’s voice leered, rattling about in her brain. _Did you really think Ego was going to risk the alliance by alienating you? And don’t tell me you’re attached to your fiancé already. His wellbeing doesn’t matter, so long as he functions well enough for our purpose. Forget him, and focus on the task at hand._

“Who is the decorator, your highness?” she finally asked, looking away from Ego long enough to grab another piece of fruit.

“He’s a bit of wildcard, that man,” Ego answered cryptically. He was still staring Peter down rather intensely, daring him to say something. Peter refused to look up from his plate, shoveling bread in his mouth like he was starving. “Apparently he’s got all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, gadgets and gizmos aplenty. He’s not actually a decorator, per se, but he _does_ owe me some favors, and he’s got connections all over the galaxy to some of the finest goods known to man.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised you aren’t partaking in decorating the palace yourself,” Gamora said, waving a hand at their surroundings. “Considering how... _elaborate_ everything looks, I would have thought it to be a simple task for you.”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Meetings, the boring stuff. Off-planet.” Ego jabbed his fork outwards in a nonsensical direction. “I’ll be leaving tonight, after we’ve made the last few wedding arrangements. I can’t guarantee when I’ll be back, but I will _definitely_ be here for the wedding.” He chewed slowly. “So, Peter. You figured it out yet?”

“I’m...sorry I didn’t bring Gamora back to dinner like I promised,” Peter said carefully.

“And why didn’t you, Peter?” Ego began wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, the coolness in his eyes still prevalent.

“I was worried about Gamora,” Peter said honestly. “She was upset, I didn’t wanna _force_ her to come back to dinner.”

“So you lied to me, then.” Ego set the napkin down, folded one leg neatly over the other, his hands coming to rest on his bent knee. “You’re really digging yourself a hole here, Peter.”

“I didn’t lie,” Peter frowned. “I asked her to come back like I promised I would, but she didn’t want to, so I didn’t ask again.”

“You better keep an eye on him, Gamora,” Ego said dryly. “You might think you’re marrying a man, but all I see in front of me is a _boy_. A boy who doesn’t know how to take control like a man, doesn’t know how to _handle_ people like a man.”

“ _Handle_?” Peter exclaimed very suddenly, clenching his fists. Gamora was alarmed to find that once again, tendrils of white light were starting to wiggle their way up between his fingers.

Ego stood abruptly, his chair screeching across the floor. He flipped his cape back over his shoulder before turning and striding away. “We’re receiving the decorator in the throne room in thirty minutes. I expect you both to be on time. Don’t give me another reason to punish you, Peter. And believe me, I _will_.”

The moment the doors shut behind Ego’s sweeping figure, Peter let out a loud exhale of relief, flexing his fingers outwards as the light slowly died down. Gamora could only sit in silence, unsure of how to comfort him, or if he even needed comforting in the first place. She was so used to Nebula’s tantrums - yelling, fighting, _screaming_ for blood - that Peter’s quiet fury was completely foreign to her. “You see how he is?” Peter laughed hollowly. “It’s stuff like that that makes me wonder why I even bother sticking around. And then I remember.”

“Your sister?” Gamora guessed. He nodded wordlessly. “Then we’re in the same boat. I would have left Thanos long ago if not for Nebula. She still values his opinion in her own way. Craves his attention like it’s the only way to measure her self-worth.”

“Mantis doesn’t know any other way,” he continued. “At least I had eight years with my mom. But she’s been with Dad since she was a baby. Don’t think she ever got a hug until I came along.”

Gamora couldn’t recall the last time she had been hugged, or who by. It had to have been her mother or father. “Come on, Quill,” she said quietly. “We have to finish breakfast and get going before the decorator arrives. We can’t give your father another excuse to hurt you.”

“Right.” He sighed again, picking up his fork. “You’re right.”

* * *

Peter and Gamora arrived at the throne room with three minutes to spare, their own capes swishing behind them in haste. To Gamora’s surprise, she found another throne had been bolted down beside Peter’s, shimmering proudly in the sunlight, complete with emerald detailing and a plush red cushion. Yondu was already stood at its side, his back stiff as a board as he stared straight ahead, while Mantis and Ego were already settled and ready.

“Would you look at that? You finally listened to me,” Ego drawled.

“Yes, Dad,” Peter said patiently as he and Gamora joined them. He tried his best to sit as still as possible, though he could see Gamora fidgeting with her ring - not the silver rings that so often adorned her fingers, those were entirely absent today - but the engagement ring he had given her, its green diamond catching the light streaming in through the enormous windows. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to talk back.”

“Attaboy.” Ego patted Peter firmly on the shoulder. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Arriving now, Taneleer Tivan - the Collector,” the herald boomed from the front of the room as the enormous front doors swung open. A man strolled in, followed by two young women who looked no older than Mantis. The only word that came to Peter’s mind in that very moment was _eccentric_ \- the man was indisputably odd, with a large fur coat over an asymmetric pinstripe jacket, absolutely dripping in jewels, with a shock of white hair and a dark blue stripe down the middle of his bottom lip and chin. The two women were in matching crisp white uniforms, a stark contrast to their vibrantly pink skin and pigtails - clearly Krylorian, and clearly his servants. “Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Ego of the Celestials, and his children, Prince Peter and Princess Mantis, and Prince Peter’s betrothed, Princess Gamora of the Titans.”

“Well, that’s a damn mouthful,” Yondu muttered under his breath. Peter had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“Your _Highnesses_ ,” Tivan purred, bowing so deeply he looked as if he were about to tumble forwards. “It is an absolute honor to be in your presence.”

“The honor is mine, Tivan,” Ego chuckled, the prior iciness in his tone no longer there. “I hope you had a safe journey here. I know we’re a bit hard to find.”

“Oh, nothing could keep me away,” Tivan replied, straightening up. “Especially when I heard that the lovely Princess Gamora was here.”

“And why is that, Tivan?” Gamora leaned forward slightly to get a better look at him. It was surprisingly difficult to read his face - despite the dramatics of his appearance and his speech, there was a dullness in his expression that left her guessing.

“Why, you’re absolutely famous across the galaxy, my dear,” Tivan simpered. “When I heard of your engagement to the handsome Prince Peter here, I knew you would make a splendid pair. I just _had_ to come and see for myself. I wanted the opportunity to provide you both the very finest for your wedding. If I may ask, how did you two meet?”

“It was an arrangement between myself and Thanos,” Ego said, eyes flickering briefly to Gamora before turning back towards the Collector. “We figured it was about time to cement an alliance between our two kingdoms. Besides, I think it’s working quite well - my boy seems absolutely head over heels for her.”

Peter let out an undignified squeak. “Dad, that’s - that’s uh.” He chuckled awkwardly. He was unsure of whether it was acceptable to joke around with his father again, or if it was too early, and would only worsen his future punishment. “It’s a bit early to say. We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

“Nonsense,” Ego laughed. “Remember when you were a kid? You loved going on and on about finding your ‘true love’ like in those books your mom read to you. And you’ve been making eyes at her the whole time she’s been here. Father’s intuition, Peter.” He tapped on his temples knowingly. Peter sunk a little in his seat, looking over to Yondu, who looked to be enjoying himself way too much. Gamora herself looked a little disturbed.

The Collector seemed intrigued but thankfully decided not to pry any further. He spun suddenly to look at the women behind him. “Carina! Ophelia! Why are we keeping our hosts waiting? Bring them the displays they have been so patiently waiting for.”

The women startled as if they had been hit before scrambling for the large crate behind them, unbuckling the straps that bound it in place. The sides of the crate crashed onto the ground with an echoing _whump_ , revealing a large glass box. Inside _that_ box appeared to be a revolving orb, glowing a rich, vibrant purple. The Collector snapped his fingers, and the orb suddenly came to life, projecting a rotation of images about five feet above the box. Pictures of floral displays and sculptures more elaborate than the last, table settings and matching curtains, the sort of excessive luxury that made Gamora feel incredibly out of her element. Still, she knew she couldn’t afford another misstep, now that she had tested the boundaries of Ego’s patience. _Play along, Gamora_ , Thanos’s voice murmured in her ear. _It’s imperative that they trust you are nothing more than the prince’s betrothed. If you give up the game, know that if_ they _do not punish you, I certainly will._

“Well then, why don’t we take a closer look? Shall we?” Ego got to his feet, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Peter and Mantis automatically stood as well, so Gamora rose to follow them.

It was unlike any mission she had ever been on before, this touch-and-go mimicry of the customs and socialization of these people she still knew almost nothing about. Not that Gamora was entirely unused to this - out of all of Thanos’s children, she was considered to be the best with people, not that that was saying much. She knew how to manipulate people, lure them into a false sense of security. But this was something else entirely, watching the Celestial royal family as they oohed and ahhed over embossed nameplates, smile in delight as the Collector described the intricacies of cutlery in detail. Even Peter, who had been shaking like a leaf not thirty minutes ago at breakfast, was now clapping his father on the shoulder, doubled over in laughter in response to an inside joke as if nothing had happened.

Gamora thought back to how all her previous jobs had gone - find the target, then hurt, torture, or kill the target. Done. It was like clockwork, with the only real variation being who, where, and why, none of which really mattered in the end, not when one was as skilled as she was. Despite its horrifying implications, she liked the routine of those tasks, the expectation of how it was all going to play out. This right here, this was unpredictable and impulsive and _rash_ , and maybe it explained why she was holding her breath like she was drowning and had no idea how long it would take to get to the surface.

“Hey. Hey, Gamora.” Peter appeared in front of her, concerned. “Man, you’re really zoning out today. C’mon, let’s get this over with and then we can go, okay?”

“Right.” She swallowed. “Right, my apologies.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he frowned. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t I?” she said hoarsely. He looked at her curiously, opening his mouth as if to ask her something, before Ego began calling them over again, gesturing at another projection of what appeared to be an ice sculpture of Peter and Gamora in a loving embrace. She stepped closer, nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. Now wasn’t the time for her to reflect on what she had done. _Focus on what you have to do_ , she told herself firmly. _Have your moment after the deed is done. After Thanos is dead. Only then, do you deserve to celebrate._

* * *

As the day dragged on, Gamora couldn’t help but feel drained. Not from physical exhaustion - that was a sensation that often eluded her in favor of adrenaline - but from keeping up appearances, matching the sort of energy expected out of Peter and Mantis at all times. She had two more appointments to go - in a way, she was grateful that Ego had insisted on everything being done in a single day, rather than let it carry over the entire span of the week - before she would be free to do as she pleased once again.

The dress fitting - well, she didn’t really want to talk about it. The dressmaker was a defector from the Sovereign who, despite having nothing but ill will for her people, still had every bit of arrogance and attitude that they were known for, commenting on how the swell of Gamora’s muscle definition, particularly in her biceps and thighs, were “unsightly for an otherwise semi-attractive woman such as herself”. Gamora almost started to consider decking the woman in the face, but she wasn’t about to let her temper get the best of her again. And yes, her dress was ostentatiously gold. Seriously, she didn’t want to talk about it.

The last appointment of the day was when she was reunited with Peter. She found herself surprisingly relieved upon seeing him again, smiling tentatively and bowing in greeting, something that seemed to please Ego. Peter bowing _back_ , almost teasingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth, caught both Ego and Gamora off-guard, her smile growing slightly wider as he straightened back up.

After their miscommunication from a couple days ago, once they had reached a better understanding of each other’s intentions, he was a comforting presence among her uncertainty about Mantis and Yondu, and her dread whenever Ego was nearby. Peter was pleasant company, if a little scatterbrained at times. He was clever enough, a natural conversationalist who seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and admittedly _very_ easy on the eyes (Gamora might have been secretly pleased by the tightness of his dress shirt from last night’s dinner). If he were any less amicable, she might have fled a while ago, but something about his demeanor told her that he was trustworthy.

“Cake?” Gamora said slowly. She was staring down the length of the dining table, astonished to find it entirely covered in more dessert than she had consumed in her lifetime.

“You say that like you’ve never seen it before,” Peter commented with a chuckle.

“I practically haven’t,” she replied firmly. “Cake isn’t something that’s easy to come by when one lives the way I do. And I haven’t had any since arriving.” The two dessert chefs who were standing dutifully beside the table looked somewhat offended by her confession.

“Well, then - allow me to introduce it to you,” Peter said. The chefs eyed him apprehensively as he picked up the large knife and sliced into the closest dessert, a vibrant red velvet cake topped with chocolate shavings. He passed her the plate with a hopeful smile, while she accepted it gingerly as if it were a small animal, ready to attack. Ego had since walked over to the head of the table as always, watching her expectantly. “Hey...do you trust me?”

“Marginally,” she said half-teasingly, before taking a tentative bite. She chewed slowly, consideringly. “It’s a bit sweet for my taste. I don’t really have sugar that often. It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Wait!” Peter exclaimed, moving to cut a different cake. The chefs looked to be considering leaving the room entirely since he was so insistent on taking their job. “Maybe you’ll like fruit better - natural sugars - try this.”

To Gamora’s dismay, the moment she took a bite of the second slice - some yaro concoction, oozing with a generous helping of jam - Peter seemed to have taken it as a cue to start cutting pieces from _everything_ on the table, piling it onto an enormous plate. He brought it back to her with a brightness in his eyes, not unlike a child who was incredibly eager to show their playmate all their toys at once.

She tried her hardest not to smile at his enthusiasm. “If your goal was to make sure I’m too full for dinner, you’re certainly on your way,” she replied, though she accepted the new plate. Part of her felt ridiculous - what was she _doing_ here, picking out flower arrangements and curtains, eating cake and tasting appetizers, like it was all she had to worry about? But then she cast a spare glance across the room with Ego, who nodded at her in what she supposed he thought to be solidarity. Right, that was the mission. Pretend like she _wasn’t_ planning a revolution behind his back. She turned towards Peter before she could let everything she was feeling show on her face. “Are you not having any?”

“I already know which one I like,” he shrugged, pointing at a generous slice of perhaps the most modest-looking cake on her plate. Yellow cake, white frosting - no sprinkles or shavings, no fruit or chocolate, just cake. “All these recipes are from Terran cookbooks that I found at Nova trading posts. A little slice of home. But this cake? This is the one my mom taught me how to make. Or, she tried. I wouldn’t really sit still long enough to help measure out the ingredients, or stir, or any of that. But it’s a good memory.”

“Well, I have no sentimental attachment to any of these. So why don’t we go with yours?” She took a bite of the yellow cake, smiling a little as she did. “Besides, I like it. Simple, unfussy. Sweet, but not overly so. Your mother had good taste.”

“You still haven’t had any of the others yet,” Peter reminded her, though his gaze softened as he said it.

“I don’t have to,” she said quietly. “I’ll defer to you. Just this once, though. Don’t get used to it.” He chuckled in response, ducking his head bashfully.

It was then that Ego strolled over to them as casually as he could manage, apparently having become restless observing them from afar. “Have you told her about your mother, Peter?” He slung an arm over both their shoulders, jostling Gamora’s plate somewhat. “She was a beauty, that Meredith Quill. Clever, funny. A real sweetheart. I called her my river lily.”

“That’s great, Dad,” Peter said loudly, stepping out of his grasp. Gamora followed suit, wincing when she noticed some of the icing had smeared onto her jacket sleeve. “Okay, we’ve got decorations and food out of the way, Gamora’s got her dress and I’ve got my suit. Are we, uh, are we good to go?”

Ego looked at him curiously before stepping back. “Alright, I can take a hint,” he laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “You want dear old Dad to leave you alone with your girl, I get it. I don’t blame you, son. She’s a real keeper, hey?” Peter chuckled weakly as he internally winced. “I’ll be back for the wedding, Peter, I promise. I wouldn’t miss my boy’s big day for the world!” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder one last time. “Say goodbye to Mantis for me, will you? And don’t burn the kingdom down while I’m gone.”

“Ha,” Peter said uncertainly as Ego strolled away, whistling once more. It was the same tune he seemed to whistle all the time, not that Gamora could identify what it was, or if it was significant at all. “Wait, Dad! The guest list.”

Ego paused, though he didn’t turn around. “Why don’t you ask Yondu? After all, I saw him sniffing around my study yesterday. Remind him not to do it again, will you? He should _really_ know better.”

“I - Yes, Dad.” Peter coughed. “Have a good trip.” Ego nodded sharply before continuing out of the room. Peter then turned to look at the chefs, who looked just about as awkward as he felt. “Oh, you’re, uh, you’re dismissed. Thank you for all the cake, it was awesome as always. And please, take the rest of the week off. You guys are gonna be so worn out on the day of the wedding.”

“But, your highness - ” one of them began, astonished.

“It’s your son’s birthday tomorrow, right, Cosima? And he likes chocolate cake, if I remember correctly.” He gestured towards the table of untouched dessert. “Listen, take it all and give it to your families, and everyone who’s working the wedding, alright? Don’t let my dad’s obsession with making our wedding perfect take over your lives. Have some fun, on me!”

Both chefs looked uneasily at each other before looking at Gamora as well, apparently seeking her approval. “Where I come from, we know to never waste food,” Gamora added. “It would be a shame to see your hard work go to waste.”

“Yes, your highnesses,” the chefs chimed, relieved. They left to fetch their kitchen assistants, but not before bowing to Peter and Gamora, huge smiles on their faces.

Gamora turned towards Peter. “Generous of you. I’m impressed. And how did you remember the chef’s son so well?”

“He was one of the first births in our kingdom,” Peter explained. “His mother was working as a server at the time. She always slipped me extra servings of dessert at dinner. I remember making Yondu drag me to her room a few days after her son was born, and apparently, the first thing I said was ‘I thought babies were s’posed to be cute’.”

She snorted. “How tactful. You never really quite understood the concept of ‘think before you speak’, did you?”

“Hey, it’s all part of my charm,” he grinned. “So, what should we do now?”

“Something _actually_ useful,” she suggested, setting her plate down. “Training?”

* * *

The two of them returned to Peter’s quarters, grateful to finally be alone. Granted, Gamora had suggested they invite the rest of their group along, but to her surprise, Peter had been thinking further ahead than she realized. He had asked Kraglin to escort the others to the armory and set up a secret storage area for their weapons and technology, especially Rocket’s impressive arsenal of guns. So now, it was just the two of them, and they were both surprisingly comfortable with the idea.

It was their first proper training session after the madness of their first few days together, and Peter found himself looking forward to it. Aside from Gamora’s rather unsavory reputation that he now knew to never bring up, he could only imagine the sort of things she could teach him, what he could be capable of under her tutelage. “So, what’s first? Punches? Kicks? How to kill a dude with just one finger?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she snapped her glove straps into place. “I’m not sure what scenario you’re imagining in which you have to kill a... _man_ with one finger. Where are the rest of your fingers?”

“The dude would’ve cut ‘em off. That’s why I have to kill him,” he said seriously. She fixed him with another blank stare before snorting and shaking her head.

“No, Quill, that’s not what we’re focusing on. Like I said before, you’ve clearly got a natural inclination for combat and a decent skill set already, you just need the discipline. You need to anticipate your opponent’s next move before they themselves know what they’re doing.” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, stretching out her torso as she did, arms held high above her head. Peter tried to mimic her movements, though he certainly didn’t have her flexibility. “You also said you know how to fight as long as the other person isn’t fighting dirty. Well, if you’re fighting for your life, _all_ moves can come into play, honorable or not.”

“So if I were fighting _you_ , for example…” He cut himself off with a groan as the muscle in his lower back spasmed from his stretching. “...I could totally pull your hair.”

She stepped closer to him, her gaze traveling up his body in consideration. She tried her best not to let her eyes linger, or surely he’d tease her for it. “If you pull my hair…” she said slowly. Without warning, she kicked out one leg from under him. “...I guarantee your inability to ever have children.” He collapsed in a panting heap on the ground, clutching at the sudden ache in his crotch. “Understood?”

“Yes,” he grunted. “That was... _ow_.”

“Eloquent,” she drawled, offering a hand to pull him up. He accepted it with a disgruntled huff, only for her to flip him back down once more and pin him in a headlock.

“Ahh!” Peter yelped. He grasped fruitlessly at her arm to no avail, her vice-like grip too solid for him to do anything but paw at her defeatedly. “You are... _relentless_.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Gamora smirked, releasing him. He stumbled to his feet, somewhat dazed from the lack of oxygen. “And you have to be when your entire life is a kill-or-be-killed scenario. Has there ever been any sort of major conflicts here? War, famine, treason?”

He straightened up, though he was still seeing spots. “No, nothing like that.”

“So then why do you have any fight training to begin with? I can’t imagine your father found value in investing the time for you to train since you supposedly have an army.”

Peter smiled at that. “Nah, not Dad. Yondu. He, uh...well, I’m not gonna get into his story, but he’s a damn good fighter. When he was taking me here, from Terra, I asked him if he could teach me some moves. After a while, I think a part of him wished I became a Ravager instead of a prince. I was a skinny kid. Woulda been good for thievin’.”

“That’s where the story doesn’t quite add up for me,” Gamora admitted, dropping her defensive stance entirely. “Your father is clearly a resourceful man. I mean no offense to Yondu, but why did Ego send a _criminal_ to pick you up instead of returning to Terra himself?”

“He said...he said he couldn’t bear the idea of being back on an Earth where my mother wasn’t living anymore. But I was the one who had to watch her die. And...I don’t know which is worse. Being right there, or not being there at all.”

“I had to watch my family die as well.” She slowly sat on the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. “So forgive me for saying your father has no grounds for his point of view. It’s the kind of trauma no person should _ever_ have to live with.”

He chuckled, sitting across from her. “Y’know, I’m starting to think this room is cursed. Every single time we’re in here, we end up talking about pretty serious stuff. But as long as this doesn’t end in you throwing a knife at me again, I don’t mind.”

She looked almost embarrassed as she hung her head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Quill. I spend so much time lecturing Nebula for being irrational, but I realize that my temper is _just_ as bad. It’s something I’m working on, for when I’m...my new self, I suppose. Whatever you want to call it.”

Peter tilted his head slightly as he observed her. There was an unusual softness in the way she held herself, her shoulders loose, her palms open and draped absentmindedly over her knees. The calluses on her fingertips, the scarring on her knuckles, had faded a little bit since the day of her arrival. He couldn’t have ever imagined her to show such vulnerability around him, around _anyone_ , but maybe she had no one to talk to like this. Not when her people were so different from her, not when her sister was more similar than she wanted to admit. It was then that Peter realized, for all of her bravado, the confidence that he had recognized in her the very first time they met, it was rooted in loneliness. And if she was starting to feel connected to him, whether because of their impending plans, by circumstance, or whatever else it could possibly be, he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to help. “Well...what else does your new self wanna do?”

“What do you mean?” She lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“I guess...hobbies? New skills you wanna pick up?” He shrugged. “Whatever you can think of, really.”

“You say that like I have a chance at a normal life after all of this, whatever ‘normal’ means,” Gamora replied. “Trust me, I have no illusion of being accepted into society after our fathers are dead. I’m sure there’s a place for me in Sakaar, where I’ll spend the rest of my days fighting for my life. It’s nothing new. It’ll be a comfort, even.”

Peter frowned. “Look, I don’t know if Nova Prime’s offer still stands after what happened last night, but what she said about _me_? That’s still real. I’ll advocate for you. I’ll make sure people know that it was your idea in the first place.”

She blinked, surprised. “...then I’ll ask you the same thing I asked her. You barely know me, Quill, so why would you waste your time trying to help me? And _don’t_ give me that ‘clean slate’ crap.”

“You’re right. I don’t know you that well,” he agreed. “But you’ve said and done enough for me to already know that you’re a good person. With good intentions. And you deserve a better life than the one you’ve been dealt.”

“And what of _your_ plans afterwards?” she asked. For a moment, she thought of reacting to what he had said - in her mind, it was an utterly undeserved kindness. She could already see so much of the goodness in Peter that others had spoken of, that she couldn’t see how he thought the same of her. Part of her was also suspicious about Ego’s light-hearted teasing - did Peter truly have romantic feelings for her? Was that part of his goal here, to win her over with generous words? It was too early to tell, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she liked the idea or not just yet. “To be blunt, you’ll be a prince without a kingdom.”

“I’d like to think a kingdom is more about its people than a place,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep watch over ‘em, wherever they end up. If they’ll still have me, that is.” His eyes lit up. “Hey, you haven’t met the people yet! We should do that while Dad’s away.”

“You really think they’ll accept me?” Gamora said dubiously. “There hasn’t even been an official announcement of our engagement.”

“Then we’ll do it tomorrow, first thing. Kill two birds with one stone!” At her alarmed expression, he added, “Terran expression. Sorry, I forget sometimes.”

“Forget that I’m not Terran?” she said, confused.

“Forget that we haven’t known each other that long. We’ve spent so much time together already, it’s like you’ve been here for months, not days,” he confessed, getting to his feet. Once again, Gamora wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet, though she was also starting to forget what her daily life had been like before coming here. For all of her worries and stresses about how to behave, there was also something soothing about not hiding out in some safehouse for days, or sneaking through an alleyway, or wherever the future scene of her crime took place. Being here was downright cozy in comparison. “C’mon, let’s get back to it. I thought you wanted to discipline me.” He paused. “That sounded less weird in my head.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear you. I’m getting the feeling I’ll be doing that often,” she sighed as she got up as well. “Alright then, start with your feet at about hip-width apart…”

* * *

Dinner was decidedly more pleasant than the previous few nights, now that Ego was away. Instead of eating in the dining hall, Peter had requested the chefs make some of his favorite homestyle Terran meals and bring them to his quarters instead. Their entire group gathered in the sitting room, sprawled across the many couches and chairs, as they made small talk and greedily gulped down every last bite.

“I still can’t believe you’re gettin’ married, Gam,” Rocket said as he began licking his paws clean. Peter wondered if it would be condescending to offer him a napkin. “I know it’s an arrangement and all, but geez, you were just slayin’ a bunch of A’askavariians two weeks ago when they sold out the big guy for a lousy hundred thousand units. And now we’re gonna watch you walk down the aisle!”

“I remember that job. You were absolutely drenched in blood,” Drax nodded, taking another generous bite of his meatloaf. “It was quite the sight, Quill. You should have seen it. There is no one more formidable than your wife-to-be.”

Gamora glanced over at Peter, somewhat worried - the last thing she needed was for him to get spooked by reminders of her violent tendencies again - but he was just grinning, awestruck. “That sounds badass,” he said cheerfully. “Kinda gross, but badass. So were all of you there?”

“Yes. We tend to travel together. Gamora and Nebula are sent on missions as a pair quite often, and so Groot and I accompany them to keep an eye on them both,” Drax explained. “Rocket just tags along because - “

“ - because I can,” Rocket boasted. “Big man don’t mind me. And he don’t scare me, either.”

“You _should_ be scared of Thanos. I’d frankly consider it unhealthy if you didn’t,” Gamora said, poking him with her fork. She turned back to Peter. “We have other siblings, but we don’t speak of them. The Black Order...they are much more physically intimidating than Nebula and I, but we have the better track record with our father. He also acquired both of us around the same time, which is why we’re thrown together more often than not.”

“Yes, except we all know Thanos favors you over any other,” Nebula snorted as she took a sip of her drink. “It’s no wonder Korath tried to kill you so often.”

“And failed every single time, so clearly he _should_ feel threatened by me,” Gamora retorted. “We’re not discussing this now, Nebula.”

“Why, because you don’t want your _husband_ to know all of your dirty secrets?” Nebula shot back.

“I am Groot,” Groot said sternly, planting himself on the couch, firmly settled between the sisters. They both let out grunts of annoyance as he squished them into armrests with his overly large (and rather prickly) elbows.

“Yeah, can you two relax for a second? We got plenty of time to fight later, when we’re _actually_ fighting for our lives,” Rocket snapped. “Right now, I just want more of this.” He held up his beer stein above his head as if it were a glorious trophy. “You mind getting me a refill, Quill?”

Peter rolled his eyes as he held out his hand, drawing slow, circular motions with his pointer finger as the glass slowly filled itself to the brim. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you guys like me for what I can do, and not for who I _am_.”

“Who said anything about liking you?” Rocket snarked, though he clapped Peter heartily on the back in what Peter suspected was meant to be reassurance, though the claw pinpricks in his spine made him wince.  “Besides, the only one of us that’s really hung out with you at all is Gamora. But you should be honored, man. She usually hates _everyone_.”

“I have no _patience_ for anyone,” Gamora corrected, smirking. “Quill is no exception.”

“Trust me, girl, that don’t wear off,” Yondu said dryly. “Oh, the stories I could tell about ‘im when he was a boy.”

“ _Now_ you’re speaking my language!” Rocket said heartily, slamming his mug against the table with vigor. The beer sloshed all over the rim, splattering over his paw, but he didn’t seem to notice. “All we ever heard before coming here was goody-two-shoes Prince Peter. Gimme the _real_ dirt!”

“I, too, am intrigued,” Drax added, leaning forward in anticipation.

“I have stories, too!” Mantis piped up. “There is _plenty_ to say about Peter from when we were children.”

“I feel so betrayed,” Peter sighed.

As Yondu and Mantis began telling the others about the time Peter had decided to run around the palace naked on a dare (Kraglin, who had also been a young boy at the time, thought it would have been hilarious - spoiler alert, it was), Peter moved to sit at Gamora’s feet, giving her a tentative smile when she glanced down. Deciding she’d had enough of Groot’s intrusion of her personal space, she moved to join him, finding herself oddly comforted by her shoulder brushing against his. “Why am I not surprised you were a problem child?” she whispered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m clearly perfect,” Peter replied softly. She laughed before she could stop herself. “I can’t believe our friends are bonding over embarrassing secrets about _me_ and dirty secrets about _you_.”

“We’re hardly a conventional group of people, so it’s natural to bond over unconventional things,” she shrugged. “If it means we perform better as a team, then so be it.”

“Wasn’t even thinking about the plan, to be honest. I was just thinking it’d be nice to have more friends.” He stared at the dredges of his drink in the bottom of his glass. “It’s only been me, Yondu, Mantis, and Kraglin this whole time. Even then, I don’t see Kraglin much anymore, ever since he got promoted.”

“Can we really afford to be friends, though?” Gamora said quietly. “There’s so much at stake. If we were emotionally attached to each other - _any_ of us, I mean - wouldn’t it make it that much harder?”

“Friends are what kept me sane all these years,” Peter replied. “Don’t you feel the same way about yours? Your sister?”

“They’re my subjects, not my friends,” she said cooly, though one cursory glance at her face told him otherwise. “And my sister and I have a complicated history. I wouldn’t call it friendship.”

“What about - ”

“You?” She looked him up and down again, this time more thoroughly. He squirmed a little under her gaze. “We’re engaged by necessity. That doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”

“Uh, well…” Peter trailed off for a moment, surprised by how much her words had cut him. Once again, just when he thought they were getting somewhere, she was leaving him behind instead. “We don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to, but if it’s just by principle of not wanting any no matter what - ”

“I thought we were done challenging each other’s values, Quill,” she interrupted, trying to keep her voice as level as possible. Around them, their friends were bursting into laughter at Yondu and Mantis’s anecdote, oblivious to their conversation. “I told you, sentiment is a weakness. It’s toxic. I accepted a long time ago that I was no longer going to let it into my life. It’s nothing personal when I say I only want to be allies and not friends. So just drop it, okay?”

“Fine.” He turned to look down at his own hands, twisting feverishly in his lap, sans light. “Sorry.”

He supposed there was only so much he could expect from her, having lived her entire life not knowing who to trust. To her, he was probably just another temporary face in the crowd, a means to an end. Still, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. There was something so enigmatic about her, and whenever she was around, he found himself really enjoying her company. But if she was really _this_ insistent on keeping their relationship strictly professional, he wasn’t about to attempt anything otherwise.

“You two arguin’ again? We don’t have time for this,” Yondu complained, plopping down on the couch where Gamora had been sitting and propping his feet up on the coffee table next to Peter’s head. “I’d say you’re like an old married couple, but you ain’t even married yet.”

“The wedding is only meant to signify our compliance,” Gamora retorted, turning to look up at him. “Don’t look too far into it, Yondu.”

“And we’re making our engagement public tomorrow,” Peter added, brightening slightly. “Yondu, you can make all the arrangements, right?”

“I really _do_ gotta do everything around here,” Yondu said resignedly, taking another swig of his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

* * *

As Gamora got ready the following morning, grateful for the loose-fit clothes that Mantis had slipped her last night after complaining about the weird wardrobe Ego had provided her, she found herself curious about how they were going to make their engagement known to the Celestial people. The emptiness surrounding the palace still gave her the shivers, extending out so far that she couldn’t see another building for miles.

She joined Peter, Yondu, and Mantis in the sitting room, following them silently through the palace corridors to the gardens. She watched in confusion as Yondu and Peter slipped behind one of the tall hedges by the border, pushing the leaves aside to reveal a bolted door. The group made their way inside and down a metal staircase, which led them to -

“ _Ships?_ You have ships. And you didn’t think to mention this before,” Gamora said incredulously.

The four of them stood in what appeared to be a modest-sized underground loading bay, boasting a fleet of somewhat dumpy-looking M-ships in varying dull shades of gray and brown. There were a handful of guards milling about, wearing what looked more like mechanic uniforms instead of the standard issue worn by the palace attendants. Despite everything looking a little worse for the wear, it was definitely more high-tech than anything she had seen above the surface, though all the colors were much more subdued (as in, not a trace of gold to be seen), aside from one particularly garish M-ship that certainly wasn’t to her taste.

“We’re taking my ship,” Peter said, pointing to the aforementioned garish ship. It had a blue and orange paint job, and was remarkably clean in comparison to the others. Gamora suspected it spoke more to his vanity than his discipline. “The Milano.”

“You’ll be sorry you kept this from Rocket. He’s an expert pilot,” Gamora said as they walked over.

“Bet he’s not as good as me,” Peter boasted as the landing ramp of the Milano slowly lowered itself down to welcome them aboard. “I’m kind of the best there is.”

“And so modest,” she sighed, taking a few tentative steps inside and looking around curiously. Oddly enough, it was the opposite of Peter’s quarters and yet shared certain commonalities. While his rooms were warm and homely, the Milano was like most spacecraft - grays and browns and blues, its structure mostly consisting of metal walls and floors. However, there were still things scattered everywhere like Peter’s sitting room as well - books, gadgets, food that left a plethora of awful smells, the works.

Peter and Yondu went up the ladder to the cockpit, chatting amicably on the way. Gamora watched them in uncertainty before Mantis gave her a friendly squeeze on the arm, her eyes bright. “There is plenty of room up there for us to join them,” she said cheerfully. “You will _love_ the view of the planet once we are in flight. Come on!”

Gamora was admittedly impressed once she did make her way upstairs, glancing around in wonder at the large windows that encased them. Peter and Yondu seemed to be bickering at the controls, though Peter paused to turn and wave at the girls before going back to nitpicking at the way Yondu was sitting. “Alright, alright, enough of this. You two better buckle up before we take off, don’t want any injuries!” Peter called.

An hour passed before they touched down in Id, which Peter explained was considered to be the capital of Ego’s planet, though he also added that the title was somewhat irrelevant, considering the entirety of the planet had been populated at approximately the same time. Gamora was still uncertain of how exactly they maintained order - regions, cities, towns, how could they possibly govern it all? - but after everything she and Peter had talked about regarding his father, the legitimacy of the planet and the happiness of his people never came into question.

Id was just about as vibrant as she expected, and just a touch gaudy, the streets paved with glittering tile, buildings boasting golden columns and intricate detailing. There was a richness in the landscaping that had been present at the palace, impossibly vibrant blooms of flowers and carefully maintained trees and bushes lining the pavement. People were going about their day, many of them dressed as luxuriously as their rulers, whether they were on foot or in open-air vehicles. As the Milano touched down in the landing bay, located right by the city hall’s gardens, some nearby civilians paused to watch, whispering excitedly amongst themselves as they cautiously moved closer.

The loading dock lowered slowly, allowing Peter and Mantis to descend first, waving enthusiastically to their people. Gamora followed next, though she stepped a little lighter than they had, with Yondu bringing up the rear, nodding at her when she turned to look at him warily.

“Your highnesses!” one woman called out from behind the garden’s fences. “It’s so good to see you both.” The young children hanging on to her skirts slipped through the gate and ran towards their leaders with a joyful whoop, though the guard standing by didn’t seem all too concerned. They wrapped their little arms around Peter and Mantis’s legs, giggling happily.

“Hey, guys,” Peter grinned, ruffling their hair affectionately. “How’re you doing? How’s school?”

“Good,” they chimed shyly, beaming up at them with bright eyes. Mantis reached out to run a gentle thumb over their temples, antennae alight.

“You have both been very good students and very good children,” she informed them cheerfully. “That is good to know. Can’t have you causing trouble for your mother, hm?”

“Yes, your highness,” the boy promised. “I got full marks on my last math test! Mom was really happy when I brought it home.”

“How amazing, Leo!” Mantis exclaimed. “You were having trouble a few months ago with your long division, right? Then you must have made so much progress since I last saw you. She must be so proud of you. _I_ am proud of you.”

“And how was your dance recital, Kira?” Peter asked the girl who was attached to his hip. “Sorry I missed it - we had some stuff going on. Boring royalty stuff,” he added, winking.

Gamora quirked an eyebrow at this - she hadn’t expected them to know their people so intimately. Ego, maybe, since he probably had the considerable advantage of being fully Celestial, possessing an above-average memory. But Peter and Mantis were chatting with these children as if they were just next-door neighbors.

A crowd was beginning to form by now, necks craning to get a good look at the new arrivals. Most people only had eyes for Peter and Mantis, calling out to them in excitement, though there were some curious onlookers sizing up Gamora as well, trying to figure out who she was. Yondu reached out to squeeze her elbow unexpectedly. When she turned back to look at him, he gave her what she supposed was meant to be a comforting smile. “You gonna be okay, girl. Just follow Quill and Mantis’s lead, you’ll be jus’ fine.”

After another minute or two of overenthusiastic civilians talking their ears off, Peter finally managed to weave his way through the sea of people, guiding the others towards the front of city hall and up the impressive stairs. An assistant appeared out of nowhere with an official podium, and the herald stepped forward, bowing in respect as the four of them took their places before speaking into the microphone. “Presenting Your Royal Highnesses, Prince Peter and Princess Mantis!”

“Hello, everyone!” Peter called cheerfully, waving out to the adoring crowd. “I’ve got some, uh, some pretty exciting news to share with you all.” He paused dramatically, watching everyone’s faces light up in anticipation. “I’m getting married in four days!” There was an immediate ripple of cheering and whooping - even the children looked enthused by the idea. “You guys know how Dad’s always...looking out for me. He heard about this amazing woman from another powerful kingdom and thought she would be the perfect match, both for me _and_ for our planet’s future. And we’ve been getting to know each other for a little while now - ” _Less than a week, more like_ , Gamora thought to herself “ - and I gotta say, I think Dad was on to something.” Peter extended a hand towards Gamora, gesturing for her to stand beside him at center stage. Trembling with nerves, she took the last few steps, the backs of their hands brushing ever-so-slightly as she did. “Meet Princess Gamora of the Titans, my fiancée and future Princess of the Celestials!”

There was a horribly drawn-out pause - at least, that’s what it had felt like in Gamora’s mind. In reality, it was perhaps no more than two seconds - before a chorus of applause broke out over the crowd, though not as enthusiastic as Peter had been hoping for. It sounded almost hesitant, but he suspected it was more in response to the mention of her home planet, and not Gamora herself. After all, if _he_ had never heard her name, only her title, before they first met, he wouldn’t be surprised if _no one_ knew who she really was.

“You wanna say anything?” he murmured without turning to look at her.

“I’d rather not,” she whispered back. The uncertainty on the crowd’s faces told her that nothing she said was going to change their mind about her, or at the very least, where she came from. Regardless of her own past, the reputation of the Titans was something she would never be able to shake, innocent or not. Peter turned to look at her curiously, looking almost disappointed, before turning back to wave as if nothing had happened, grinning widely at his people.

Gamora remained behind with Yondu as the siblings descended the stairs to chat with their people once more. She watched as they both practically glowed with excitement, embracing adults and children alike, or just enthusiastically nodding their heads as their subjects rambled on about the newest community events or how their businesses were prospering. “It seems irresponsible for them to travel without a member of the guard,” she commented. “They may _seem_ universally beloved by your people, but - ”

“Who’s to say they don’t got someone lookin’ out for ‘em?” Yondu snorted, patting the yaka arrow on his hip. “You ain’t seen me in action yet, Gamora. It’s a damn fine sight to see, you can hold me to it.”

“Have you ever considered committing treason against Ego?” she asked, quieter now. “You taught Quill how to fight, after all. And I’ve had many a time where I considered driving my sword through Thanos’s skull, not that I’d ever get close enough to do it.”

“Sure, I think about it sometimes. But I’m not stupid enough to kill all of _us_ in the process. The whole dang planet would explode,” he chuckled softly. “My loyalties lie with the kids, and they been loyal to Ego up until now. Y’know, I still find it crazy you managed to get that boy to consider doing something he shoulda thought about a long time ago. Now, I’m no parentin’ expert, but I can tell Ego’s not doing it right. No good father would ever act the way he do.”

“I can tell they both think highly of you,” Gamora said consolingly. There was something about the anger burning in Yondu’s eyes, both now and from a couple nights ago, that told her of his true intentions. Despite being an ex-Ravager captain, at his core, he seemed like the kind of person she wanted on her side. “You said it yourself - you practically had more of a hand in raising them than Ego did.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t their daddy.” Yondu looked almost saddened at having to admit such a thing. Before Gamora could inquire further, Peter came jogging back up the stairs to join them, oblivious to Yondu’s troubled expression.

“Hey, so the people have been asking for us to stay in Id tonight. They wanna throw us an engagement party,” Peter said excitedly. He was practically bouncing on his toes in elation. “We can send a ship to bring your people over to join us. I’m in if you are!”

She eyed him speculatively. “I thought we were going to go over our weaponry cache today,” she replied.

He faltered. “Yeah, I guess I forgot about that. Well, we can - ”

“ - but you wanted me to properly engage with your people for the time being, present ourselves as a united front. I imagine this would be my best opportunity since you said the wedding would be nothing short of chaotic,” she finished, giving him a small smile. “Weapons can wait until tomorrow. Rocket won’t be very happy about that.”

“There’ll be free booze?” he offered tentatively, grin widening.

“Then never mind, our change in plans should suit him nicely,” she chuckled. “When and where is this party being held?”

“Starting around dinnertime, in City Square. It’s about a dozen blocks over from here,” Peter explained, pointing into the distance. “In the meantime, I’ll get us a car and show you the sights! It’s way more awesome out here than in the palace, believe me.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she admitted. “I _am_ getting a little tired of being cooped up, working on our...plan, _all_ the time. I guess I should enjoy the fresh air while I can.”

“That’s the spirit!” Yondu hooted, pumping a triumphant fist in the air. They both startled at the sound of his voice, having completely forgotten he was there. In all honesty, Peter had gotten a little caught up in the vibrancy of Gamora’s hair in the morning sun, trying his best not to stare. “And how about _I_ go get the car? You always ask ‘em for that gaudy ol’ thing that don’t got any sort of protection at all.”

“It’s _Dad’s_ car, so you try telling _him_ that!” Peter called after Yondu’s retreating back as he disappeared down the stairs to fetch the attendant. “Well. Okay, then. Ready to live a little?”

“I’d hate to see what your idea of ‘living a little’ is, but it’s too late for me. I’ve already agreed,” Gamora said, smirking. “Lead the way, Quill.”

* * *

Gamora found herself surprised by her surroundings as they began making their way through the city on foot, having been dropped off further away from its center. Yondu had taken Mantis elsewhere after some civilians had requested she visit one of the local schools, leaving Peter and Gamora alone yet again. Considering the false decadence of the palace in contrast to its stark environment, she had assumed the rest of the planet would echo the very same, lacking depth, lacking _life_. But the streets were as lively as any other moderately populated planet, bustling with men, women, children, and occasionally animals she suspected wouldn’t live in harmony together otherwise. Most people bowed their heads as Peter passed, a few reaching out to squeeze his hand or arm in greeting every now and then, many of whom he greeted by name. No one seemed particularly intimidated by his presence, only made happier by it. It was a far cry from the way people reacted to Gamora or Nebula on Titan, the way that the slaves in Thanos’s possession (the very idea made her skin crawl) curled into themselves the moment they laid eyes on either sister.

“They look up to you,” Gamora commented as he guided her down a vacant alleyway. “But not in the way people look up to their master for guidance. More like...a revered hero, for reassurance.”

“I just want them to remember me well. To know I’m looking out for ‘em,” Peter nodded. “Can’t be a good prince if my people can’t trust me. But hey, if you wanna call me a hero, I ain’t complaining,” he added with a laugh.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Quill,” she teased, elbowing him gently. “And where are we going? Why aren’t Yondu or your sister here?”

“So many questions,” he chuckled, reaching out for her hand. “Come on, I thought you trusted me.”

“Marginally,” she repeated, though they both knew it was much more than that as she laced her fingers with his. They were pleasantly warm, a little rougher than she expected for a man of his privilege. He smiled in return before leading her into a small shop. It was dwarfed by its surroundings and utterly normal in appearance, lacking the gold detailing and sparkling tiles she had gotten so used to back in City Center. Instead, it was nondescript wood siding and scaffolding, with one small window that provided little view inside, no sign that boasted its wares or services. She would have otherwise thought it to be a house hidden among random shops.

Once they were inside, however, Gamora found herself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of _things_ filling up its cramped quarters, teetering shelves and crooked cabinets stocked up with random trinkets and treasures, racks of used clothing and old sheets, piles and piles of tattered books stacked from floor to ceiling. There was a small, worn desk by the door, and behind it, a finely-dressed man, who bowed the moment he saw Peter step in.

“Greetings, your highness,” he said politely, straightening up. “I heard you were in Id, but I wasn’t sure if you would be stopping by.”

“Aw, Broker. I’ve always got time for you!” Peter exclaimed, reaching over to pat the older man on the shoulder. “Besides, what better time to bring my fiancée to the best shop on the whole planet than right now?”

“You flatter me, Prince Peter,” Broker replied, though he was glowing with pride. “It is lovely to meet you, your highness,” he added in Gamora’s direction, bowing to her as well. “Please let me know if you’re looking for anything in particular.”

She smiled at him cautiously, wondering when someone, _anyone_ , was going to recognize her, before making her way through the winding maze of goods, careful not to knock anything over. “He looks familiar,” she murmured to Peter, who had followed her to the other side of the shelf, perusing a selection of novelty keyrings.

“Broker? He used to set up shop on Xandar,” Peter whispered back. “Dad invited him to bring his business here, keep him away from the crazies who attacked his place to get their hands on rare inventory. You haven’t ever...tried to... _kill_ him, have you?”

She fixed him with a glare. “ _No_. But I passed through Xandar before. I was told I could find an Infinity Stone there, but my source was lying,” she replied coolly. “I must have gone by his old shop or something.”

Peter nodded sheepishly, feeling a little guilty about his question. “I wasn’t kidding, by the way. This place is pretty cool - I get stuff for Yondu and Mantis from here all the time. Broker’s got tons of weapons in the back, if you wanna check those out.”

“I actually wanted to look at the books,” she said, gesturing towards the precarious stacks of volumes that looked to be defying gravity. She felt as if one wrong move would cause the entire place to collapse into itself. At his raised eyebrow, she drawled, “What, did you think I couldn’t read?”

“I just - I - well, I didn’t think Thanos would bother teaching you,” he stammered defensively, watching in fascination as she began running her fingers down the spines, tracing the faded lettering. She lingered every now and then, before decisively pulling out a few books in particular. “I didn’t think you and Nebula were savages or anything. Just, you surprise me sometimes.”

“If it’s a skill that helps me carry out my duties, then it was useful enough for him to instill it in us,” she replied. She circled around to another stack and began picking through its selection as well. “I might as well use what little free time I have here wisely. I don’t get many opportunities for leisure, and if my life here is about to become as relaxed as yours, then I should take advantage.”

He followed her, albeit at a safe distance. “You should look at what I’ve got in my study, too,” he offered. “I’ve got tons of books in there I’ve never touched. Put ‘em to good use for once.”

Gamora smiled, something soft and pretty and utterly unexpected. Despite her reservations earlier, Peter thought she looked happier today than she had been the previous five days (and oh, _wow_ , had it really only been five?) he’d known her. “Thank you, Quill.”

* * *

The rest of the day went by peacefully, with Peter leading Gamora around the city, showing her the sights. It ranged from modest to ostentatious - both the places _and_ the people. To her relief, most passersby seemed unaware of who she really was, who she was tied to. It still made her stomach twist anxiously, though, seeing what looked to be the last of individuals of races that she or Thanos had wiped out. She had to remind herself that she was trying to save _everyone_ now, as much as it seemed like she was doing nothing of real significance, what with her dress fittings and cake tastings. But patience was key - it could be weeks, or even _months_ before the opportunity would make itself available to them, but it was going to happen. She would make sure of it.

They reunited with Yondu and Mantis by dinner, along with the rest of Gamora’s people, in the City Square. The sun was going down, but the streets were lively as ever, music streaming through speakers mounted on every lamppost. The crowd shifted around them like a tide, sweeping their group inwards until they reached the rows upon rows of tables in the very middle of the square. The tables were covered in mismatched tablecloths and oversized bouquets of flowers. Dishware and cutlery were already set out, while people bustled in and out of nearby houses and market stalls, hefting large trays of food.

“When you said there’d be food and booze, I didn’t think it was gonna be like this,” Rocket commented. He was perched on Groot's shoulder, his line of sight far higher than anyone else’s. “I expected, I dunno, gold everything like your dumb palace. Some sparkly, wishy-washy crap.”

“This ain’t Sovereign, Rocket,” Peter laughed good-naturedly as they neared the table. The crowd didn’t seem too concerned about watching them take their seats, already disappearing to get more food or find their companions. Peter paused, glancing at the single chair at the head of the table, before reaching to pull another one around from its side. He gestured for Gamora to take a seat. “For you, Princess.”

“Are you really going to call me that in public?” she grimaced, though she sat down without further complaint. Peter and the rest of their people followed suit, filing themselves neatly on either side of the table.

“Only when necessary,” he promised with a childlike grin.

The Celestial subjects began joining them as well, setting down the last of the food before taking their seats. There had to be room for at least a hundred people, with others crowding in to serve themselves before walking away to sit on the sidewalk or the nearby benches. It was certainly one of the strangest arrangements Gamora had ever seen, with the barricades preventing vehicles from passing through as everyone flooded the streets by foot. It was more akin to a street party than the soirée she had been imagining. Peter and Mantis began dishing out their own servings, politely declining as one kindly older woman offered to help them, so Gamora followed suit.

“Does this happen often?” Drax asked after they had been eating for a few minutes. “This celebration among your people, it is similar to the war rallies of my home.”

“Not really,” Peter admitted. “We don’t have exciting stuff happen that much. Which is why we should make the most of it! Live a little, you know?”

“I would prefer to live a very long and fulfilling life,” Drax frowned. “Why would I only want to live a little?”

“No, that’s not what that - ”

“Your highness! Let us congratulate you on your engagement,” one large, boisterous man boomed from further down the table, holding a generous mug of mead in the air. “So many of us have watched you grow into a fine young man over the years - it’s a blessing to be part of this celebration, my lord. You have provided us with your good heart for so long, to see you share it with someone else is all we could ask for.” Gamora blanched a little - they _did_ remember this was an arrangement, right?

“Thanks,” Peter said cheerfully, unfazed. “So, tell me how you guys are doing! Is everything going okay? Chancellor Yorke is taking good care of you when we’re not around, I hope.”

“She approved the new park just last week,” a different man chimed in. “My daughters will _love_ the new play area.”

“And you should see the school over in Otto,” one woman called, waving her hand enthusiastically. “They’ve got their music education program up and running. I’m sure you would have loved to attend when you were young, your highness. Or maybe even now!”

Gamora couldn’t help but cut in, curious. “So that’s common knowledge, then? My...fiancé’s fixation on music?”

“Fixation? It’s his _passion_ , my lady,” the woman laughed. “I remember the day our king brought him home and announced that he had finally found his beloved son. Do you recall, my lord? You were standing on the steps of the city hall like you were this morning, except your hands were in your pockets, headphones on, bopping away without a care in the world!”

“...'bopping’?” Gamora asked skeptically.

“Dancing, Gamora,” Peter exclaimed incredulously, putting his fork down. He was looking at her like she’d grown an extra head. “You’ve never danced before?”

“You assume that I can’t read, but that I can dance. Interesting,” she deadpanned. He gave her another inquisitive look, prompting her to go on. “I was raised to be a warrior,” she continued. “I do not _dance_.”

As if on cue, the music grew louder, some gentle, whimsical song crooning through the speakers, filling up the tiny gaps between the multitude of conversations occurring all the way along the length of the table. She looked at Peter accusingly, but he only shrugged, having had nothing to do with it.

“Join me?” he requested, getting to his feet. He held out a hand, though his gaze fell on her face, his eyes gentle. “Or I can ask Mantis,” he added quietly. Gamora could feel the others’ eyes on them, watching expectantly.

She examined his outstretched palm for a moment, the unexpected callouses of his fingers and the slight bruise he had on his knuckle from attempting to knock her out in combat training yesterday (and failed, causing him to spiral wildly into the nearest wall). She stood as well, accepting his gesture as she did. “Your father’s probably expecting us to dance at the wedding. I’d rather embarrass myself now instead of later,” she answered, though her stomach warmed with nerves (or maybe she was just hungry. They had barely started eating, after all).

“Forget him, _I_ want to dance at our wedding,” he laughed, squeezing once as he led her over to the crowd. “And since you’re teaching me how to fight - _with discipline_ , as you so kindly put it - let _me_ teach _you_ how to dance.”

_Why do birds suddenly appear...every time you are near?...just like me...they long to be...close to you…_

They stood still for a moment, her eyeing him cautiously as he watched her in contemplation, before he took another step closer, his hands coming to settle on her waist. Gamora blinked in confusion before putting hers on his shoulders, and slowly, he began to move from side-to-side, his hips swaying slightly with the swell of the piano. She followed him automatically, though stiffly. Her shoulders were still bearing the weight of her discomfort from earlier, her elbows locked tight.

_Why do stars fall down from the sky...every time you walk by?...just like me...they long to be...close to you…_

“There doesn’t seem to be much to dancing,” she commented after a minute had passed by, unsure of where to look. Peter’s gaze remained on her face, the mischievous spark in his eyes still evident in the evening light. “We’re practically just rocking back and forth. What is there to teach?”

_On the day that you were born the angels got together...and decided to create a dream come true...so, they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold...and starlight in your eyes of blue..._

“Well, we’re just doin’ something simple right now,” Peter said defensively. “Wait ‘til we try something like - ”

Gamora found herself being twirled underneath his arm as he spun her out, before guiding her back into his embrace, barely giving her enough time to catch her breath. She righted herself against him, fingers digging a little deeper into his shoulders. He was warm, a little heated from all the walking they had done and the amount of body heat surrounding them, but he was steady, graceful in a way that he hadn’t been during combat practice. He fought sharply, haphazardly, flinging himself about with reckless aplomb. Here, there was a kindness in his presence that she found welcoming, a thoughtfulness in his touch.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard about something...again,” he said half-teasingly, half-seriously. “All that stuff you were stressing out about yesterday during those dumb appointments - is that it?”

“I have a lot on my mind,” she replied quietly. “Don’t you, considering the position we’re in?”

“Sure, but I’m trying to not make it super obvious how freaked out I am. Is it working?” he grinned cheekily, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You won’t be able to charm your way out of every situation, Quill,” Gamora said sternly, though the twinkle in his irises made for a much more pleasant view than the swirling cosmos of a few days prior. “We can’t have _every_ day be like this.”

“But...you had fun today, right?” Peter looked uncertain. “I mean, _I_ did, and sometimes coming here’s a real drag - usually I’m with Dad, and we make official announcements and pass laws and stuff, but - ”

“I did,” she interrupted, smiling tentatively. “It was quite the tour. And I’ll admit, you make for good company.” She didn’t need to look down to feel the warm glow of his hands on her waist, pleased by her words. “Maybe friendship isn’t...entirely off the table.”

“You’re just saying that,” he chuckled bashfully.

“And I mean it,” Gamora promised. “But only because I’m feeling strangely optimistic about our chances of survival. I could use more allies once we’re on the other side of this whole ordeal. Either that or I’ve had too much wine.”

Peter pulled her in closer as they took gentle steps, circling slowly as everyone around them continued to eat, drink, and dance to their heart’s content, oblivious to their prince and his soon-to-be wife. His eyes went to the table, where their friends were, watching and smiling at them, and then to Gamora’s entirely untouched glass of wine. He smiled privately to himself, ducking his head into her hair as he did.

_Just like me...they long to be...close to you..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! First, I am _so_ sorry for this chapter being later than I originally intended, school took over and then I got the flu so I've been mentally all over the place, but I've sort of got a handle on my schedule now so hopefully I can have more realistic estimates on the next chapter. 
> 
> By the way, my aim is for the next chapter to be either the week before Valentine's or the week of, because chapter four is going to be the wedding!! If you have any suggestions for good love songs from the 50s to the 80s that would be great for the wedding, please let me know! I've exhausted most of my favorites in my other fic and I just love music recommendations in general haha
> 
> Speaking of music, the song that Peter and Gamora dance to is [(They Long To Be) Close To You](https://open.spotify.com/track/79SE4x5ZROfEqaN12nXFHj) by The Carpenters. You can also read this fic on [tumblr](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic%3A-rtw) if you'd like.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see y'all in the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I can't stand this indecision...married with a lack of vision..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warning for this chapter in particular - semi-descriptive depictions of panic attacks and violence, plus mentions of blood near the end. Yeah, it's _that_ kind of wedding.

“I’m nervous. Like, really, _really_ frickin’ nervous. Why am I nervous?”

“If you’re talkin’ to me, I ain’t listening,” Yondu snorted from where he was sprawled across Peter’s bed. “And if you’re talkin’ to yourself, it’s too late. Today’s the day, boy. Don’t be getting cold feet now.”

Today was, indeed, the day of the royal wedding, a spectacle that had been completely unheard of just four days ago, now spread across the galaxy like wildfire - the exact opposite of what Peter and Gamora were hoping for. Ego had only just returned from his trip late last night, boasting about all the leaders and other people of particular importance he’d spoken to, inviting them to take notice of their young kingdom, its young leader, and his soon-to-be wife.

To Peter’s dismay, Yondu never got a hold of the guest list again, and could only rattle a few insignificant names that he could recall off the top of his head before shrugging in defeat. Apparently, Ego had locked up his quarters, preventing literally everyone from getting inside, even his own personal attendants and advisors. Peter couldn’t spend too much time worrying about what it meant, though, since he knew Gamora was more anxious about the ambiguity of their wedding guests. She was dreading the thought of facing anyone who would recognize her for who she was, or worse, _do_ something about it.

“I’m not getting cold feet!” Peter exclaimed defensively, turning away from the full-length mirror to face Yondu. “Stop bein’ a jerk and tell me I look good.”

Peter was wearing the fanciest suit he had ever owned, a wine-colored tuxedo jacket over a crisp white dress shirt, paired with a black velvet bow tie, black pleated slacks, and shiny leather loafers. His somewhat unruly hair had been smoothed and styled a little more than usual, his scruff tidied up along his neck and chin. Yondu was admittedly thrown by Peter’s appearance - after all, this was the same boy who made mud pies in the garden (when he was _ten_ ) and attempted to wash himself in the fountain before Ego came home (he was not successful). There were plenty of positive words he could use to describe Peter, sure, but “mature” had never really been one of them.

“You got your cologne on, right? Otherwise, you gonna smell like that nightcap from yesterday.”

“I was _nervous_ ,” Peter repeated, turning back towards the mirror to scowl at his reflection. “We both know this is the easy part. Afterwards, who _knows_ what’s gonna happen.”

“What, y’ mean the Mad Titan droppin’ in? Can’t imagine that going wrong at all,” Yondu said dryly. “And straighten your tie, Quill. It looks like a compass pointin’ anywhere but north.”

Meanwhile, Gamora was getting ready in the guest quarters, in the company of her people. Her attempts to shoo away the palace attendants were futile, as they refused to let her get dressed without help. She was surprised to find that her people had been provided new clothing for the wedding, though she figured it wasn’t out of generosity, but rather, the presence of others that had motivated Ego to do so. Drax still refused to wear a shirt, and Groot only accepted the tie, but Nebula and Rocket looked both more well-groomed (and more uncomfortable) than they had their entire lives.

“It’s _itchy_ ,” Nebula said petulantly, yanking at her shirt collar. “How long do we have to wear these damn things?”

“Festivities usually go late into the night, ma’am,” one of the attendants volunteered, though she seemed to regret speaking up the second Nebula glared at her. “His Majesty’s request, of course,” she added hastily. “He usually likes having events that last for _weeks_.”

“He don’t have anything better to do?” Rocket snarked. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch in his suit, wrinkling the fine wool material as he did, while jabbing a screwdriver fruitlessly into the device he was working on, making the attendants a little wary of his presence.

“His Majesty takes great pride in providing the very best for his guests and making them feel important,” another attendant said defensively. “I can assure you, most people appreciate his intentions, even if they aren’t privy to social gatherings.”

“Well, we aren’t like most people.” Gamora turned away from the window, stepping down from the small elevated platform once the attendants had finally stopped fussing at her skirts. “Please tell me I’m done.”

“Yes, your highness,” the first attendant said dutifully, straightening up. “If I may say, my lady, you look very lovely.”

“You always radiate such confidence,” the third attendant sighed, her eyes bright as she watched Gamora cross the room to stand by Nebula. “It’s a very admirable quality, your highness. I hope Prince Peter appreciates that about you.”

Gamora wrinkled her brow. “...right. Please leave us.”

The attendants looked disappointed but merely bowed in response. “Yes, your highness,” they chimed in perfect sync before filing neatly out the door, the last one curtsying one more time before closing it behind her. Nebula rolled her eyes at the display before looking up at Gamora.

“You’ll have to put up with _that_ for god knows how long,” Nebula snorted. “Maybe this _is_ Hel.”

Gamora merely waved her off dismissively, attempting to lower herself onto the other end of the couch without crumpling her dress beneath her. “Small annoyances. Look at the bigger picture here, Neb. We need to figure out if there’s anyone in attendance who will cause a problem, and - ”

“ - and take them out?” Drax piped up very suddenly, sounding a little _too_ excited for Gamora’s liking.

“No!” she exclaimed, astonished. “Drax, murder is _not_ the answer. Not in this case, anyways,” she amended. “I was _going_ to say, tell Quill and see if we can get them removed. Chances are if the ‘guest’ knows who I am and came to the wedding anyway, they have the intent to harm, maybe even kill. We can’t let that happen.”

“So what’re we waiting for?” Rocket exclaimed, jumping to his feet, tossing his device aside almost too casually for something so destructive. “Let’s go talk to Quill before the ceremony starts.”

“He refuses to see me,” Gamora sighed. “Apparently, it’s considered bad luck on Terra for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. I reminded him we aren’t on Terra anymore, but then again, when has he ever listened to me?” In actuality, Gamora had relented nearly right away. It was hard to argue with Peter once he looked almost guilty for asking in the first place, backtracking in order to please her. As irritable as he could be, Gamora had no desire to make him fit into her ideas of what she wanted, especially when he’d been so accommodating to her in return.

“I’ll go, then,” Rocket shrugged easily. “I was gonna go meet with Kraglin, anyways. He’s got a whole buncha junk I could scrap for parts. I’ll tell him about the potential murder guest.” Gamora winced a little at Rocket’s euphemism. “Drax, you wanna come with?”

“I would,” Drax nodded, bowing towards the remaining Titans. “I will see you all at the ceremony, provided none of us are caught by surprise and die horrible deaths at the mercy of infiltrators beforehand.”

Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at Drax’s utter morbidness as he and Rocket took their leave. She turned towards Nebula and Groot, the latter having been sat quietly the whole time. “Well, I suppose now’s a good time as any to get to the transport and get...married.” It was all vocabulary that felt foreign on her tongue - marriage, wedding, husband and wife. _What a bizarre thing to do in the name of preventing mass destruction_ , she thought to herself.

“I am Groot,” Groot said kindly, getting to his feet. He patted her carefully on the shoulder, careful not to snag her veil. “I am Groot.”

“Thank you, Groot,” Gamora said softly, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you think so.”

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

“Are you _trying_ to piss me off?” Nebula snapped. The temptation to kick her sister in the shin was getting stronger by the minute, but it wasn’t worth the risk of definite retaliation.

The two princesses of Titan (and oh, how they _loathed_ the term, especially now that it was getting semi-regular usage) were sat in an old-fashioned carriage, currently stopped at the bottom of the front steps to the palace. The stairs were already packed with people clamoring to get a better look at the rest of the wedding party stood in front of the fountain, while the midsection was roped off and supervised by members of the guard. Their presence didn’t make Gamora feel much better, however, even though Kraglin had reassured Rocket and Drax that all the guests had been searched for weapons or other oddities before stepping foot on the planet. Something in her gut told her there had to be someone out there up to _something_ , and for once, instinct was winning over logic.

“Excuse _me_ for wanting to get this over with,” Gamora replied snidely, though she moved her fingernails away from the glass. “I only have so much patience, Nebula.”

“And apparently, not enough sleep,” Nebula snarked in return, sitting up from where she had been slumped against the window, apprehensively watching the crowd. Though she didn’t like agreeing with her sister out loud, she was also certain that there had to be at least one person among the hundreds with the intent to harm them.

Peter, meanwhile, was stood at the top of the stairs, rocking back and forth on his heels in anticipation, hands clasped neatly behind his back to hide the way they were trembling. Ego was eyeing him disapprovingly from a couple feet away, but knew he couldn’t chastise his son right then and there, not when everyone else was watching. Chancellor Yorke was stood behind the podium, ready to officiate, while Mantis and Yondu also stood a little way away from Peter as well, dressed in their very finest. Drax, Rocket, and Groot were on the opposite side of the wedding arch where Gamora was going to be, looking thoroughly bored. Even Groot, who usually defaulted to a serene smile, was practically drooping.

A moment passed before the conductor suddenly startled at the sound of an invisible cue and raised his baton to signal Gamora’s arrival. The orchestra burst into song - the traditional Terran wedding march, to be exact - causing everyone in the wedding party to stand a little straighter, while the crowd turned their gaze towards the bottom of the steps.

Gamora had stepped out of the carriage and was ascending the stairs, taking it one at a time as Mantis had instructed her. Even from far away, Peter could tell by the look in her eyes that she'd rather sprint her way up as fast as she possibly could. Nebula was following closely behind, keeping an eye on the train of her dress and its accompanying veil, though she didn’t look pleased about her job.

Peter, knowing that Gamora was going take at least a full minute to reach him, found himself observing her appearance, utterly mesmerized. He had already become so accustomed to the training gear she wore most of the time, or the ceremonial garb she had arrived in that was more suitable for a battlefield than a ballroom. What she waswearing now, though the complete opposite of what Gamora would have liked, was incredibly beautiful.

Her dress boasted a sweetheart neckline and a full skirt with layers upon layers of rose-gold tulle, fanning out into a modest two-foot train. Shimmering gold floral embroidery curled its way down the bodice and spanning the entire dress, winding around her shoulders and arms like it was growing from her vibrant skin. Her hair was in a half-updo, tendrils framing her face, with the rest of it twisted complexly at the back and held in place with a small pearl pin. Lastly, her veil, the exact color of the dress, descended from the crown of her head to the floor, just barely grazing her cheekbones as she walked. The softness in her appearance was a stark contrast to the coolness in her eyes, though it wasn’t quite the same expression she wore when they had first met. It wasn’t so much confidence as it was acceptance of the situation, or at least, that’s how Peter interpreted it.

He reached for her once she finally took her place across from him, joining their hands together and squeezing gently. “You look awesome,” he mouthed reassuringly. She cracked the tiniest of smiles in return, but otherwise looked stiff and unyielding.

Chancellor Yorke bent slightly to speak into the microphone, a warm grin on her face. “Friends, family, and esteemed guests, we are gathered here today to join Prince Peter of the Celestials and Princess Gamora of the Titans in marriage. Though they have known each other for a rather short amount of time, there are many out there that can speak to the strong emotional bond they have already formed.”

Peter choked out a stilted laugh. Gamora narrowed her eyes at him in response. _Really?_ “Sorry,” Peter mumbled, mostly to Chancellor Yorke. “I’m just so...overcome. With emotion.” Now it was Gamora’s turn to bite back her snort of disbelief.

The chancellor gave him a confused smile before looking back out to the crowd. “In legally affirming their relationship, we are not only marrying two individuals, but marrying the old with the new, tried and true traditions with untraditional ideas - even _unusual_ , you might say,” she added with a laugh. “The Titans are one of the oldest royal families in the entire galaxy, and certainly one of the most revered. The Celestials, on the other hand, are of a new kind, growing and learning with its people. By bringing Prince Peter and Princess Gamora together, we are acknowledging that harmony and peace can be accomplished between complete opposites. We can make connections with people and ideas that otherwise share nothing in common. And by doing so, we strengthen _everyone_ , and create a togetherness like no other.”

Gamora felt her eye twitch a little, wondering if Chancellor Yorke was aware of what she was getting wrong and so utterly right at the same time. In her peripheral vision, she could see Ego nodding along approvingly as if _he_ wasn’t trying to create togetherness by destroying everyone else.

“And now, I ask for the couple to make their vows.”

Peter brightened then, having dozed off a little in the last fifteen seconds. He turned away from the chancellor to look Gamora in the eye, his gaze gentle, yet steady. “In the short amount of time we’ve known each other, I can already say that it’s been awesome getting to spend time with you. The conversations and moments we’ve shared make me hopeful that our marriage will be a happy one. And in marriage, I promise to remain loyal and faithful, to make sure you feel happy and respected, and for the days where you feel like you’re in a dark place - ” he released her hands to unclasp his right hand, his palm open towards the sky “ - to be your guiding star.”

A warm ball of white light hovered a mere inch above his hand, turning over and over again the way it had when he made her engagement ring. This time, the light melted away to reveal a small crystal hairpin in the shape of a constellation, one she couldn’t identify on sight. The crowd cooed below them, whispers aflutter among the spectators, but Gamora only eyed Peter cautiously as she bowed to allow him to slide it into her hair, above her left ear. Though they had been training for the last few days, throwing each other around for hours at a time, there was something much more intimate about the feeling of his fingertips grazing her temples despite the fact they weren’t touching anywhere else. She shivered involuntarily.

“I would have never imagined myself getting married,” Gamora began, much less steady than Peter had been. She hadn’t practiced her vows nearly as much as he did - she thought them to be pointless, and she’d never been one for flowery bombast. “Especially not to someone who says such melodramatic things.” The crowd seemed tickled by this, laughing as if she had told some great joke. Gamora paused to look at them, alarmed by the sound of their laughter, before realizing that somehow, they were starting to warm to her presence. “But our time together has been unlike anything I’ve experienced, and I’m grateful for every moment of it. In marriage, I promise to remain steadfast and unwavering, to keep you full of joy and laughter, and to protect you in the ways that only a warrior can - with everything that I have.”

Peter grinned widely at that, pleased by her promises, however false they might be. Though they were spending more time together outside of their duties and obligations, slowly building the shaky foundations of their (potentially temporary) friendship, she still wasn’t one for emotional expression. He could, at the very least, appreciate her efforts, and even more so, be impressed by the outcome.

The ceremony continued on with the exchanging of rings, with Peter becoming so nervous that he nearly dropped them. The crowd tittered at this, but the Celestial civilians seemed to enjoy his antics as always. Finally, the chancellor stepped forward once more. The grin on her face was infectious.

“Blessed be, by the powers of our masters - Death, Entropy, Infinity, and Eternity - I pronounce Prince Peter and Princess Gamora husband and wife!” Chancellor Yorke boomed, her arms spread wide. “You may kiss the bride.”

The next minute or so blurred into a haze for Gamora, as if she were in a dream. Peter swept her closer, his hands on the small of her back while he brushed his lips against hers, so briefly that it was over in a blink. The crowd erupted into deafening applause and shouts of joy, the orchestra exploded into a cacophony of sound, and flower petals rained down on them so thickly that by the time Gamora found her headspace again, she could barely see Peter’s face at all.

He ducked back in after she had taken a moment to breathe, his mouth now ghosting against her ear. Gamora couldn’t describe the feeling of his lips on hers if she tried. She shivered again. “It’s over,” he whispered. “Though I can’t say that that was the hard part.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one,” Gamora drawled, though it felt like a considerable weight was lifted off her shoulders. It was an irrational feeling, considering the ceremony was only one step of many - a mostly irrelevant one, at that - but something about the vows, the crowd, and Ego’s presence made her uneasy.

After some time had passed and what felt like a few hundred photographs had been taken, the wedding party made their way back down the steps with Peter and Gamora leading the way. The crowd reached out across the barriers in an attempt to touch their shoulders or shake their hands in congratulations, though the guard made sure no one came even close. Peter helped Gamora back into the carriage she had arrived in, gathering up handfuls of her skirt and veil to keep them from getting caught, before following her inside, sitting across from her where Nebula had been. Once the carriage door had shut behind him, it was as if all the sound in the world instantly evaporated around them, leaving only a welcome silence.

“Well, I’m...sweaty.” Peter reached for the handkerchief in his inside jacket pocket and began patting his forehead dry. There was a visible sheen to his face, and his hairline wasn’t quite as neat as before. He held the handkerchief out to her in offering. She glanced at the damp cloth briefly before shaking her head. He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I was so freaking nervous the whole time, and that is _not_ something I’ll usually admit to.”

“Really, Quill, being ‘my guiding star’? Who was responsible for _that_ one?” Gamora teased.

“ _Me_ , thank you very much,” he pouted. “You didn't like that? I thought it was _very_ romantic.”

“Apropos, if anything. I thought your father was about to start weeping,” she chuckled, now bringing her feet up onto the seat beneath her. “He really is infatuated with the idea of you being infatuated with _me_. Who knows why, since it has no bearings on his attempts on the Infinity Gauntlet.”

“I’m not exactly a relationship kind of guy. Our marriage probably helps him pretend I’ve reached peak ‘adulthood’ as if he wasn’t the one who set this up in the first place,” Peter replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s just stupid parenting crap. Ignore him.”

“It’s hard to. We were having such a peaceful time these last few days without his presence,” Gamora sighed. “I’m not looking forward to formal dinners and ‘friendly’ chats again. I feel like I have to check every corner I turn.”

“That’s how it felt when I was growing up. Maybe I can claim my ‘adulthood’ means I can finally move away from home,” he said jokingly. “Find my own place to live and get a job that’s more than just shaking hands for a few hours every couple weeks.”

She softened. “Give yourself more credit, Quill. I’ve seen how you are with your people, and you’re clearly a very good leader. Imagine what you could do if you were given true political power.”

“You mean if I became _king_?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Why, do you wanna be the queen now?”

“I was under the impression we were getting divorced as soon as our fathers are gone,” she answered, curling a little further into herself.

Peter didn’t respond. Gamora turned away from him, sensing that she had hurt his feelings. Ever since the engagement party, she was becoming more attuned to his sensitivities, knew where not to poke and prod - his mother, for example. He mentioned her often enough, but it just wasn’t something for Gamora to bring up on her own. But here, she was under the impression that she and Peter were on the same page when it came to their marriage - that it was irrelevant, just a means to an end. It would serve no purpose after the deed was done. Divorce was inevitable, was it not?

“We are here, your highnesses,” the driver announced loudly through the screen.

Both of them startled, not realizing that the carriage had already been stopped for a full minute. They stepped out into the gardens at the back of the palace, already elegant enough on its own, now further transformed by the Collector’s doing. Posts covered in winding vines were used to hoist up sheer glittering drapes, with fairy lights woven in to give the illusion of a twinkling sky. Large floral displays were stationed along every path, along with tall banquet tables draped with pure white tablecloths, boasting endless trays of appetizers. There was a row of thrones by the fountain that were currently unoccupied, identical to those inside the palace, and a little off to the side, two long bars where there had to be at least half a dozen bartenders hard at work, as most the guests had flocked there immediately. Gamora couldn’t blame them - she was feeling a bit peckish herself.

Peter almost immediately spotted Ego and his shimmering golden cape, currently in conversation with Nova Prime, Lady Basha, and Senator Ponarian, all of whom were very influential across the galaxy. _Of course_. Peter rolled his eyes at his father’s obviousness before turning back towards Gamora, who looked uncertain of what to do next.

“I don’t see your people yet,” he commented, scanning the crowd. “Stay by me for now, they’ll turn up eventually.”

“I don’t think they’ll be received very warmly by these...guests,” Gamora said, her eyes locking on Lady Karaba. She was known for enslaving unique, powerful beings, her collection consisting mostly of Inhumans. She would certainly be interested in Rocket and Groot. “It’s not just _my_ safety I’m worried about. Maybe it’s best they keep their distance and go back inside instead.”

“What about your sister?” Peter asked. “I know this kind of thing isn’t really her style, but - ”

“Your highness.” An attendant approached them, accompanied by an unfamiliar man in ornate robes and gold-plated armor. “Ambassador Ragnvaldr wishes to present you with a gift from his kingdom in person. We have already inspected it for anything that may do you or Princess Gamora any harm, and have deemed it safe for your consumption.”

“Uh, thanks.” Peter coughed awkwardly. “Hey, Ambassador, how’s it going?”

The ambassador looked mildly perturbed by Peter’s casual diction before holding up the small gift-wrapped box, bowing his head deeply in respect. “The Prince of Asgard sends you his congratulations, and wishes to express his regret that he could not be here.”

“Oh, awesome!” Peter exclaimed, accepting the box and bowing briefly in return. “It’s more of that Asgardian mead, right?”

“Yes, sire, aged for a thousand years, in the barrels built from the wreck of Brunnhilde's fleet - ”

“Trust me, I’ve heard the stories. If you see Valkyrie, tell her I said hi,” Peter added, grinning as heartily clapped Ambassador Ragnvaldr on the shoulder. “Oh, and of course, please pass on my thanks to Thor. Also, remind him that he owes me, like, a thousand units from our last bet.”

“I shall...endeavor to do so, your highness.” The ambassador looked increasingly baffled. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Prince Peter, Princess Gamora. I think I’ll take my leave now.”

“I’ll show you to your ship,” the attendant volunteered quickly, and the two of them scrambled off after a polite but brief bow. Gamora tried her hardest not to laugh as Peter just shrugged, oblivious. He led her towards the bar, apparently wanting to drink some of the mead right away.

“Bet?” she asked, watching as he unwrapped the box. The nearest bartender looked a little offended as Peter triumphantly pulled out the small flask of liquor.

“Who could beat who in an arm wrestling contest,” he explained, waving the open bottle under his nose and sighing happily as he did. “This was back when I was fifteen and he was...you know, I’m not even gonna try and guess. Either way, he’s gonna tell you _he_ won, but it was totally me.” He held out the flask. “Care for a drink?”

“Oh, why not,” she sighed, her smile slowly growing. He beamed triumphantly before ducking behind the bar to grab two glasses, nodding at the now-irritated bartender as he did. Peter poured out a small amount of the mead into each glass before offering one to Gamora and holding his up in the air.

“We should toast to something,” he suggested. “Got any ideas?”

She paused to think, then raised her own glass in response. “To a new alliance. In more ways than one,” she added with a smirk. They both downed the liquor, wincing as they did. “That is...potent,” Gamora coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Kinda made my teeth numb,” Peter agreed, laughing. “Hey, I’ll save the rest for another time. We should really start socializing soon, or Dad’s gonna be suspicious.”

Ego had, in fact, been eyeing them from across the room ever since they had moved to the bar. When he noticed Peter was watching him in return, his face softened as he waved briefly before turning back towards his companions. “If we take our seats up there, that should signify we’re ready to be approached, right?” Gamora asked, gesturing towards the thrones by the fountain.

“Yeah, good idea,” Peter nodded. “Lead the way.”

Gamora carved a neat path through the crowd, smiling vacantly at those who reached out to congratulate her and Peter, who was following close behind. Once they had settled into their respective thrones, she was proven correct - dozens of people flocked to them instantly, clamoring for attention. Yondu and Mantis popped up out of nowhere and followed suit, with Mantis also taking a seat, while Yondu stood tall by Peter’s side.

Unsurprisingly, children, who were less concerned about rules, pushed their way to the front of the crowd and began throwing their arms around Peter and Mantis. A few young girls even shyly approached Gamora. “Your speech about Prince Peter was real nice,” one of the older children said, grinning widely. “I’m glad you’re our new princess.” Gamora, stunned, could only nod silently in response.

After a handful of adults passed through, mostly people Peter had never met before but pretended that he had, the Collector stepped forward, flanked by his attendants as always. He was wearing an even more obnoxiously loud outfit than he had been when they first met. “Your highnesses,” he cooed, bowing deeply, tossing his cape over his shoulder and nearly hitting Carina in the face. “Allow me to extend my congratulations - it was a _wonderful_ ceremony.”

“Thank you, Tivan,” Gamora replied, exchanging dubious glances with Peter. “Your assistance has been of great value to us.”

“Yeah, everything looks amazing,” Peter chimed in. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you find such rare goods? I have a few friends that are into collectibles, and I’m always looking for birthday presents, y’know?”

Tivan straightened up, staring at him inquisitively for an almost uncomfortably long period of time before answering. “I reside on Knowhere, my lord. It’s something of a haven for...unsavory activity, if you get my meaning. It’s all about connections and the people I encounter, and sometimes, it’s just valuable pieces falling into my possession.”

“I was there once,” Gamora murmured to Peter. “No regulations whatsoever, suitable only for outlaws looking for highly dangerous and illegal work. I see where your mind is going, and it wouldn’t make sense.”

“How do you - ”

“A refuge for your people after this place is gone,” she whispered knowingly. “It wouldn’t be safe for them, especially for children.”

“Damn,” Peter muttered before turning back to the Collector. “That sounds pretty cool. Maybe I’ll check it out sometime.”

“I would love for you to drop by,” Tivan said, smiling unsettlingly. “And before I take my leave, your highness, I have a quick question for you. How did your father come into contact with my brother?”

“Your brother?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yes, perhaps you’ve heard of him. He’s best known as the Grandmaster, runs an ancient little competition on Sakaar?” Tivan prompted. “He’s not the type to reach out to others, you see, he’s much too busy for that. He really only responds to those who come to _him_.”

“I - sorry, Tivan, I’ve never heard my dad mention him,” Peter shrugged. “Why?”

“Your father extended a wedding invitation to him. He declined since he’s too preoccupied with his little contest, but my brother and I, we have one guilty pleasure in common,” Tivan admitted with a sly smirk. “I fancy myself a collector of prized objects. He fancies himself a collector of prized beings. I just thought there was a chance your father and my brother kept in contact in case Ego ever came across someone that fit my brother’s criteria during his travels. Someone more suitable for Sakaar than for here. An agreement, perhaps?”

“Father has no agreement of the sort,” Mantis said firmly, speaking for the first time since Tivan had approached them. “Should you ask him about it, I am certain he would be offended by your accusations of such lowly behavior.”

“My lady, I did not mean - ”

“He does not use people for sport or entertainment,” she continued. “He brings them here to help them live better lives. Your insinuation that he would assist the Grandmaster’s violation of freedom goes against everything this planet is about. Please do not say such a thing ever again.” Peter and Yondu stared at Mantis, astonished.

“I didn’t mean to offend, your highness. My deepest apologies to you and your father,” Tivan murmured, bowing once more. Carina and Ophelia looked stunned at his display of humility. “I have clearly overstepped my welcome. I shall leave.”

Once the Collector and his attendants had gone, Yondu quickly stepped in to shoo the crowd away before approaching Mantis. “Are you alright, girl? I haven’t seen you that angry since...well, ever.”

“I am not angry,” Mantis protested. “I just know I had to do _something_.”

“But you just said last week - ”

“I know what I said,” Mantis interrupted, turning to look at Peter. “I will not mourn him when he is gone. But how do you think he will react if he found out we did not defend him? Every time we act out against him now, it will make him suspicious. And trust me, he is getting more suspicious every day.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Gamora, who looked unusually rueful, twisted at the new wedding band on her ring finger. “Any change in your personalities, your behaviors, he’s going to attribute them to my presence. He already thinks I’m influencing _you_ , Quill. And if he gets too close to the truth…” She trailed off, waving a hand.

“Exactly,” Mantis nodded, giving Gamora a grateful smile. “We have to continue acting as we have always done. Otherwise, we will end up like - ” She froze suddenly, her eyes blown wide.

Peter leaned in closer, concerned. She was seemingly fixated on something he couldn’t see in the distance. “End up like what?”

“Nothing,” Mantis exclaimed, shaking herself out of her reverie. She shrunk back into her seat when she noticed how close Peter had gotten, glancing over at Yondu. He only shook his head at her in silent warning.

“No, Mantis, tell me, end up like what?” Peter said urgently, reaching for her arm, but Yondu quickly stepped in between their seats before he could make contact.

“Don’t be botherin’ your sister like that, boy,” Yondu said lowly. “She said it was nothin’.”

Peter looked up at Yondu, more perplexed than ever as he slowly withdrew his hand. “Yondu, what are you - ”

“Gamora.” Now it was Nebula who had interrupted, stood about as dramatically as possible, chin tilted upwards in defiance. “There’s a call for you in the guest quarters. You need to take it _now_.”

“Where are the others?” Gamora asked, slowly getting to her feet.

“Patrolling the area for intruders,” Nebula replied impatiently. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Have they found anything suspicious yet?” Gamora pressed.

“What part of ‘let’s go’ did you not comprehend?” Nebula snapped, snatching up Gamora’s wrist. “Don’t make me drag you the whole way there, sister.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Gamora called over her shoulder before running off with Nebula, very nearly tripping over her dress a few times before she had even disappeared from sight. Peter, who was incredibly bewildered at this point, was unsure of whether to continue questioning Mantis or to follow Gamora and see if he could help. Yondu seemed to have decided for him, as he dragged the next random wedding guest up to stand before him, shooting Peter one last warning glance before standing by his side once more.

* * *

“Father, you’ve picked an odd time to call.” Gamora knelt carefully in front of the holo-screen, taking every caution not to ruin her dress as she did. They had returned to the guest quarters in record time, where the somewhat terrified-looking attendant who had notified Nebula about the call in the first place was standing by. Gamora had shooed her off immediately, knowing it wasn’t a conversation meant for an audience. “Has something happened?”

“Yes, I - what are you wearing?” Thanos’s brow wrinkled in confusion, the first time either sister had ever seen him look remotely uncertain.

“My wedding dress, Father, the ceremony just ended,” she reminded him. Although he obviously didn’t care about the wedding whatsoever, she would have expected him to at least remember it for the context of his schemes.

“Of course,” he said, nodding sharply. “Yes, I have spoken with Ego recently. He wanted to clarify our arrangements, ensure that I would approve of your new title and your new living situation.”

Gamora held back the urge to roll her eyes - honestly, did Ego really think Thanos cared about any of that? “Princess of the Celestials, you mean?” she shrugged. “It’s only words. Titles are meaningless when they hold no clout.”

“He also told me something quite interesting,” Thanos continued, ignoring her. “Did you know, girl?”

She faltered. “Know...what, Father?”

“Don’t play games with me, child,” he warned, his eyes narrowed. “Did you know that killing Ego would strip his son of his Celestial power?”

Gamora’s blood ran cold, her breath nearly hitching had she not caught herself. She swallowed, though not hard enough for him to see. Nebula looked at her inquisitively over the edge of the screen. “No, I had no idea. I would have told you the second I knew, Father, you know that.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” he spat. He leaned in closer, his face filling up the entire screen, beady dark eyes challenging her to say otherwise.

“No, but I understand your suspicions. But I promise you, I have nothing to gain out of keeping secrets, and everything to lose if I do,” she replied evenly, drumming her fingers silently on her lap. “Had I known, I would have changed course. You know me, Father, I’m not one to waste my time, _or_ yours. Now that we know killing Ego is out of the question, what’s our next play?”

Thanos sat back in his seat, though he still looked disgruntled. “It’s become clear to me that Ego’s weakness is his son. Prey on that, Gamora. But you’ll have to do it with consideration, so slowly that he never suspects a thing.”

“I don’t follow,” Gamora admitted, bowing her head slightly in submission. “What are you asking of me?”

“The only way Ego will cooperate is if we have leverage. And not just physical possessions or excessive wealth, no. He’s a man of compassion, of _emotion_ ,” Thanos sneered, as if it were something dirty. “So make Ego feel as if the boy’s love for him is slipping away to start. _Weaken_ him. The boy must spend more time with you than his father, love _you_ more than he loves his father. It will make Ego so very _desperate_.”

Gamora mused over the idea as he spoke. As much as she hated its dishonesty, credit where credit was due - it was smart. She knew the Titans had a reputation for being more bloodthirsty than any other, with a lust for nothing but war, but war required strategy. Thanos was no ignoramus, that was for sure.

“And what then?” she asked.

“When I arrive, we slowly take the boy apart, piece by piece, until Ego agrees to help us to spare the boy’s life.”

Gamora inhaled sharply. It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “Father - ”

“We’ll kill the boy eventually, of course,” Thanos said airily, waving his hand in casual nonchalance. “In fact, it might have to be the last thing we do to break Ego. Maybe we have to kill his people before he finally starts to beg for relief. But that is _entirely_ his fault. And why is that, Gamora?”

“Sentiment...is a weakness,” she said slowly. Her legs were trembling beneath her despite being seated, an uncontrollable quiver that she could only pray Thanos couldn’t see. “His love for his son...and his people...they will be his end. His reason for giving in to you.”

“I’ve taught you well,” he nodded. “If you do as I ask, Gamora, maybe you can keep the boy as your...companion. We might have to bring him out in front of Ego every now and then, hurt him a little bit. But perhaps his company will please you.”

“A personal toy? How generous,” Gamora smirked, though just saying it made her skin crawl. She was trying her best to remember how she usually spoke, but by being on Ego’s planet, by being in Peter’s presence, she was already starting to slip up. Her language, her diction, they lacked the bite that she had grown so accustomed to when she had no choice but to fight. Now that she _had_ the choice, her words became softer as a result.

“Go back to your proceedings,” Thanos ordered with a sharp, militant nod. “And remember what you must do.”

With an abrupt _bzzt_ , his face vanished from the screen, leaving the room silent, yet Gamora could practically feel him still breathing down her neck as if he were standing right behind her. “How could he?” she whispered.

“Thanos? It sounded like his typical dramatics as per usual,” Nebula shrugged, aiming for her usual indifference, though the shiver in her voice betrayed her.

“Not Thanos, _Ego_ ,” Gamora hissed, getting to her feet. “He just simultaneously made himself irreplaceable to our father while sacrificing his own _son_. He may pretend that our marriage is nothing more than a political alliance in good faith, but he’s clever. _Really_ clever. He’s made Thanos _need_ him. But he’s also made it clear that Quill is expendable. Ego could have lied and said he was just as important to the existence of the Celestial power, but no. Instead, he gave Thanos a clear target for when - and I _do_ mean when - things go wrong.”

“So his so-called love for Quill, that was a lie?” Nebula remained seated, staring up at her sister in uncertainty.

Gamora let out a hollow laugh, pacing the length of the room. “His name is _Ego_. There is nothing he will ever love more than his own existence. And he’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive, even if it means being the catalyst for his own son’s death.”

“Then we tell Quill and the others what’s going on,” Nebula persisted.

“No.” Gamora shook her head adamantly, her back to the room. She could almost see the gardens through the large bay window, hear the soft strains of music and conversation floating up to them. “No, we tell the others, and we put them at risk. Ego and Thanos have already begun their twisted games by keeping tabs on each other. If Quill can’t keep up with yet another lie, word will get back to Thanos. And if he finds out that I’m not doing as told, he’ll likely come here and kill _everyone_ himself.”

“You think Quill can’t pull it off,” Nebula said curiously. “Well, it looks like you don’t trust him as much as you say.”

Gamora turned away from the window. “This isn’t about trust, Nebula. He’s been feigning ignorance his whole life - pretending that Ego is a good man and a caring father. Continuing to do so isn’t too much to ask for, and that’s all he’s been doing thus far. We’ve already asked too much of him.”

Nebula snorted, finally standing as well. “Then you’re more confident in your ability to make him care for you than his ability to pretend he does. How typical of you.”

“At least attempting it while he’s ignorant is better than failing at pretending when everyone is self-aware,” Gamora said quietly. “It will only risk my life, and not theirs. You tell no one, Nebula. Not even _our_ people. The less who know what Thanos knows, the better. Ego is only going to become more and more of a shadow as time goes on, and any secret he becomes aware of will get everyone killed.”

“And that would be a shame,” Nebula drawled. “Well then, let’s not keep your prince waiting.”

* * *

_Lido missed the boat that day...he left the shack...but that was all he missed...and he ain't comin’ back..._

Peter sat impatiently, tapping his fingers along the armrest to the beat of the song. It was almost time to begin afternoon tea, which would then be followed by the wedding reception, leading late into the night. Ego, thankfully, had listened to Peter and limited the festivities to a single day, but it still felt too long. Peter kind of just wanted to retreat to his room, crawl under the sheets, and sleep for a few days, maybe a week. He was starting to think that he liked the idea of weddings more than actually being part of one.

Gamora had been gone for an hour by now, and he was beginning to worry. He also hadn’t seen head nor tail of any of her people since Nebula had come to steal her away, and he was starting to wonder if their superstition about someone coming to harm her was more than just paranoia. In a way, Peter could understand how these hypothetical people were feeling, whoever they were. He knew if his mother’s brain cancer had manifested into a physical person, he would want to take them down, too. It was a childish train of thought, but he had felt so useless, watching her slip away, that he wanted something tangible, somewhere to place the blame, someone who could claim responsibility for her death so he could get some sense of closure.

_At a tombstone bar...in a jukejoint car...he made a stop...just long enough...to grab a handle off the top..._

“Relax, son.” Peter turned to look at Ego, who joined him not too long ago, drinking in all the praise heaped upon him by the wedding guests who had stopped by for a chat. “She’ll be back any minute now. Why don’t you go join your sister? She looks like she could use some company.”

Mantis, in fact, did _not_ look like she needed any company at all. She was standing a good distance away, surrounded by children as she often was, listening to their stories and looking right at home. “She looks fine, Dad, you know she loves hanging out with kids more than adults,” Peter said dismissively. “I just hope Gamora’s doing okay, that’s all.”

“She’s something special, isn’t she?” There was a smile in Ego’s voice, nearing the quiet melancholy he usually reserved for talking about Meredith. “I know I’ve been teasing you a whole bunch, Peter, but you really do seem to like her. And I don’t blame you. Underneath all that...edge, she seems like she’ll do some real good. Be a good influence on you and our people. I think your mother would've liked her." They both fell silent for a moment. "Now, just because you’re married, it doesn’t mean your job is done. Treat her right, and you’ll be rewarded.”

_Lido woah oh oh oh...he's for the money...he's for the show...Lido's waiting for the go..._

Peter paused. “Rewarded with...what? Wait, no, I don’t wanna know,” he said, grimacing. Ego chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t know where _your_ mind is at,” Ego teased. “I meant _loyalty_ , son. Her devotion to you! Her understanding that _you_ are a very special person, and she should be honored to rule by your side.”

Before Peter could properly respond - and how could he, really, to something so _arrogant_ \- another voice interrupted. “I do hope you’re speaking about me, your majesty.” Gamora curtsied deeply before smiling beatifically at them. “I would hate to find out that my husband has multiple lovers at a time like this.”

Ego only laughed again, getting to his feet. “I told you she’d be back!” he said cheerfully. “I’ll leave you two be. I need to talk to the chefs about setting up for the rest of the day, anyways. See you both at teatime.”

“Bye, Dad,” Peter called after him as Gamora settled back into her throne. Some guests milled about nearby, uncertain about whether to approach them, but Yondu stepped in to wave everyone off, knowing Peter wanted to have a private moment. “Everything okay? You were gone for awhile.”

“It was just my father,” Gamora said, shrugging.

“Yeah, and your father’s a psycho warmonger,” he snorted. “So there’s gotta be more to it than that. What’d he want?”

“Just making sure I followed through with the wedding,” she replied easily. “He was probably secretly worried that I slipped off or something and ruined his plans. And what of you and _your_ father? You looked rather cozy just now.”

“We have our moments,” he said, smiling almost bitterly. He had leaned in close enough that Gamora could almost detect a hint of star-laced purple in his eyes, something that had looked so dangerous before, now manifesting in something rather beautiful, if a little sad. “Anyways, there were a bunch of people asking about you. You ready?”

“If I must,” she said resignedly, turning to look at the hesitant crowd. She was pretty sure she was going to throw something if she got just _one_ more question about her hair or who had made her dress. Honestly, did no one have anything better to talk about?

Afternoon tea began soon after, another Terran tradition that Peter had only heard of but never actually participated in as a child. Gamora was beginning to suspect all of Peter’s wedding suggestions were derived from his incredibly limited knowledge of his home planet, narrowed down to the eight years of pop culture he had lived through before being taken away.

Long iron-wrought tables were set up in the gardens, paired with matching dining chairs, covered in sheer tablecloths and large vases of white roses. The bars were shut down and shuffled out of sight, and trays of bite-sized food were brought out instead, along with what looked like hundreds of sets of fine china (golden in color, of course), accompanied by steaming pots of tea. Gamora silently questioned the choice to have tea after everyone was already pleasantly tipsy, if not flat-out drunk, but again, Peter’s planning didn’t appear to be the most...logical.

She was grateful, at least, that everyone was sitting down, and she was surrounded by her people instead of being swarmed by guests. She had answered more questions about her life (falsely, at times, when the truth would be too much for strangers to handle) in the last thirty minutes than she had in the last twenty years. Compared to what Peter referred to as “cocktail hour” (another falsehood, it had lasted far beyond its allotted sixty minutes), afternoon tea flew by quickly and painlessly, even with Ego sitting so close by, his gaze seemingly zeroed in on her and Peter as they talked.

After Gamora had taken a breather, she felt a little bit better about the whole situation. Thanos’s words had sent her into a temporary panic, but now, as she sat by Peter’s side, chatting easily with him about mundane niceties with Ego in earshot, she figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to dupe him on her own. Besides, she knew Peter already liked spending time with her, and making him happy seemed like an easy enough task - happiness came easy to him. All she needed to do was make sure Ego was close enough to see and report back to Thanos. The very thought made her shiver, but at least it would keep Peter and everyone else safe.

As it began to grow dark, guests slowly shuffled their way into the palace, milling about the enormous parlor as the attendants finished preparing the ballroom. According to Peter, it had only ever been used for his and Mantis’s coronations and birthday parties, but otherwise remained untouched.

“You still look surprisingly put together for someone who was sweating like an animal earlier,” Gamora commented, tentatively patting Peter on the chest. Ego was watching from a fair distance away, nodding approvingly as she did. “As for me, I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired, and I once sprinted across Easik for five days _straight_.”

“Wow, was that a compliment?” Peter teased, placing his hand over hers, clasped loosely over his heart. “That _almost_ sounded like a compliment.”

“Oh, you’re impossible,” she said, though she laughed as she spoke, withdrawing her hand. “I just want this day to be over with. Maybe I’m getting delirious in my exhaustion.”

He chuckled, opening his mouth to respond, before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat politely. “Sorry to interrupt, your highnesses, but I was wondering if I could speak with you in private, Princess Gamora.”

Nova Prime was stood before them, smiling warmly, though cautiously. Gamora looked to Peter in a brief moment of uncertainty before turning back to the other woman. “Of course, Nova Prime. Maybe in the gardens, away from everyone else?”

“See you inside,” Peter murmured, bowing to them both before disappearing into the crowd. Gamora led Nova Prime back outside, her stomach twisting unpleasantly in anticipation of what she could possibly have to say.

“Nova Prime, about my outburst from a few nights ago - ”

“Please, your highness. I was hoping to apologize to you,” Nova Prime insisted. “It wasn’t my place to say those things about you, especially in front of Prince Peter. I imagine he was still forming his first impressions, and I almost tainted them by treating you like a criminal. I know it’s not much of an excuse, but sometimes I forget I’m not on the clock. Married to the job, you know?” she added with a wry laugh.

“Still, I’m not proud of how I acted,” Gamora confessed. “I am _not_ that person. At least, I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”

“And I’m glad to hear it.” Nova Prime smiled gently. “Because I also wanted to let you know that my offer still stands. You do right by the Celestial people, _your_ people, and your records will be wiped clean.”

 _I’m about to destroy their home planet, kill their king, and possibly get their beloved prince killed in the process_ , Gamora thought. Her heart suddenly felt a little heavier in her chest. “That’s very generous of you,” she said, though her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“Remember, if I hear about any sort of illegal activity whatsoever, the deal is off the table,” Nova Prime said firmly, but not unkindly. “Prince Peter seems taken with you, and I trust his judgment. I’d like to be able to trust yours as well. Don’t lose his faith in you, your highness. I think you could be very good for each other, in more ways than you might think.”

Gamora’s breath caught in her throat. “Right, I - I have to take my leave now, Nova Prime. Thank you for your offer, and if you’ll excuse me - ”

“Are you alright, princess?” Nova Prime asked curiously, stepping closer. Gamora only stumbled back, nodding quickly before turning and practically sprinting off, ignoring the voices of Nova Prime and various palace attendants calling after her.

It was only until she had wandered deep into the back of the gardens that she allowed her knees to wobble and give out beneath her, collapsing onto the ground. Her palms dug harshly into the pebbles, droplets of blood beginning to form in the deep indents they created in her hands. Her breath was shallow, hot and ice-cold at the same time, chest heaving as she gasped for air.

 _Why did you think you could do this?_ Gamora thought wildly. Her mind was racing, heart pounding against her ribcage as if it were threatening to burst. _Did you think you could keep all these secrets straight? You lose your temper. You become attached to people who show you just the slightest bit of kindness. You hide things from people because you think it will save them. You are not the warrior they say you are. Your mind is much too weak for that. You are a_ child _, Gamora. Nothing more than a scared child._

She wasn’t sure when her inner voice had become possessed by Thanos, but it was all she could hear, vibrating violently in her ears, swallowing up all the space in her brain until it was nothing _but_ him. And he was right. How could she possibly overthrow two of the most powerful beings in the entire universe like this, when the slightest of words - and she wasn’t even sure _what_ exactly Nova Prime had said that burned her so badly, but it did, it absolutely _ached_ \- could make her fall apart like this?

“Gamora?” She whipped around wildly to see Peter running towards her, dropping down immediately by her side. She winced as he dragged the knees of his pants across the ground. “Nova Prime told me you freaked out and ran off - are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she was somewhat hunched over like she was about to vomit. The cakes and sandwiches from afternoon tea were starting to go sour in her mouth. “Go back inside.”

“You’re breathing funny.” He pushed her veil away from her face and cupped her jaw with one hand. “C’mon, breathe with me. In...and out. In - ”

“I said _go_ ,” she hissed, swatting at him. “Just because _you_ act like a child, it doesn’t mean you get to treat everyone else like one.”

He recoiled, though not enough to let go of her entirely. “Okay. I’m just gonna ignore that ‘cause you’re clearly having issues right now, but also, that really hurt. Uh, but this is about what _you_ need - ”

“What I _need_ ,” she said slowly, “is for you to go back inside. I’ll be there soon. Stop overreacting.”

“Overreacting is _kinda_ my thing,” Peter said cheerfully, settling back so he could sit properly. She internally groaned - he clearly wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “What did she say to you? Was it about the deal?”

Gamora sighed in defeat, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Yes. She said it was still available to me, and I just...I felt so _helpless_ , knowing that it won’t ever come to fruition. Knowing that I’ll spend the rest of my days in exile if I’m not killed first.”

Peter hugged his knees to his chest, shrugging. “You don’t know that.”

Her eyebrows shot up in response. “Quill, we’re plotting to _kill our fathers_ ,” she whispered. “In what world does that not fall under ‘illegal activity’?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, waving her off with a soft laugh. Gamora was surprised to find herself smiling a little, her breath slowing to a steady pace. Under any other circumstances, she supposed she would have had some biting response where she’d tell Peter off for being so cavalier, but something about his presence was beginning to calm her. “Look, sometimes we’re just gonna go through life not knowing stuff. And I _know_ we won’t know ‘til we get there, so why worry about it now? We’ll deal with it when it happens. And I do mean ‘we’. I’ve got your back, Gamora.”

“Sometimes, I think you’re too naive for all this,” Gamora sighed, gesturing out to the unknown. “But I can appreciate your optimism every now and then, unrealistic as it may be. So...thank you, Quill. And I’ve got your back as well.”

He beamed easily. “So, you ready to head inside?”

She nodded, getting to her feet. She hesitated for a moment before holding out her hand. As much as she wanted to tell Peter about what Thanos wanted her to do, and maybe she would tell him after all - he had come to trust her so much in so little time, she felt she had to extend the courtesy - now wasn’t the time, not yet. He looked surprised at the gesture, but accepted her hand, getting to his feet. He looped their arms together before they walked back in comfortable silence, bracing themselves for the exuberant celebration that would seemingly never end.

* * *

Dinner was another long, tedious affair. Thankfully, it was more akin to afternoon tea than cocktail hour, where Gamora only had to socialize with those directly sitting beside her. Groot declined most of the food due to his special vegetation-only diet, Rocket kept “forgetting” to use utensils in favor of scooping up handfuls with his paws, and Drax and Nebula got into an argument during the fourth course about whether they thought Peter and Gamora’s vows had been romantic (Drax) or nauseating (Nebula). Ego decided not to participate in the Titans’ rather colorful conversation, instead opting to chat with Peter, occasionally talk to Mantis, and send an attendant down the table every so often to pass a message on to someone else. Eventually, he did ask Gamora about her future plans as their new princess, something she had admittedly not been prepared for.

“Tell me about your vision,” Ego said. “What do you imagine for our planet’s future?”

“I wasn’t aware I would be given such...power, your majesty,” Gamora replied decisively. “You’ve never brought it up before.”

“Why, of course you would,” Ego chuckled. “You didn’t think you were just going to spend your time here sitting around and looking pretty, did you? That’s Peter’s job!” She could sense Peter faltering for a moment beside her before continuing to eat as if nothing happened. Her stomach turned, though not in response to the food.

“I suppose not,” she agreed.

“You know, I spoke with your father the other day,” Ego continued. “He had all sorts of questions about how you were doing, and _what_ you would be doing. Now, I don’t know too much about your relationship with him, but for someone of his, to put it delicately - reputation - he seems invested in your well-being.”

“Is that all you spoke about?” Gamora asked, hoping she didn’t look as disgusted as she felt.

“Not exactly,” Ego hummed. “He wanted to know more about the Celestial power source. Everyone always does. I told him the gist of it, but he doesn’t need the details. After all, some secrets are best kept close to the heart.” He patted his chest briefly before picking up his fork again.

Gamora cursed inwardly. _Damn_. It didn’t seem like he was going to explain further, and she’d been hoping to catch him in the moment, maybe get him to reveal exactly what he’d told Thanos without her having to. Not that it mattered much - Peter had barely looked up from his plate the entire time, too invested in scraping up every last bit of his stew. His whole demeanor had changed ever since Ego’s offhand remark about him. “From what I’ve seen, the Celestials are a much more peaceful people than the Titans,” Gamora said diplomatically. “I can admire peace, of course, but I personally believe that you - that _we_ \- cannot continue on like this forever. Your guard seem competent enough, but your civilians seem to lack self-preservation.”

“Interesting.” Ego settled back in his seat. “You think we need to train the common folk as well.”

“Not train, necessarily. Just...prepare them. For worst-case scenarios. A person of your power doesn’t live life without enemies. Your people would suffer the consequences,” she replied. Peter perked up at this.

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound like a good idea, Dad? Especially if we’re trying to put ourselves out there.” He gestured down the length of the table, seats filled with prominent politicians, leaders, and the like from all over the galaxy. “It’ll be great for everyone if they were stronger, more prepared - ”

“But why would they need to be stronger? They have _me_ ,” Ego interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. “ _I_ protect them, son. And if I were to die - and that’s a big ‘if’ - then this planet will die, anyway, with all of them on it. That’s no secret, but no one’s come after us yet.”

“So you’re saying it’s common knowledge?” Gamora prompted. “Your life’s connection to the Celestial power’s existence, I mean.”

“Well, I don’t go around telling just about anyone, but if they ask, I see no point in lying.” Ego picked up his napkin and began wiping at his mouth, though his gaze was still fixed on her. “Your dad, for example. He wanted to know, so I told him. Didn’t seem moved one way or another. Who would come after me, anyway? I’m more valuable alive than dead.” Peter and Mantis exchanged worried looks across the table.

“Dad, c’mon, don’t say stuff like that,” Peter said uneasily. “Next thing you know, someone’s gonna attack us, starting with you.”

“Are you underestimating me now, son?” Ego chuckled, reaching over to clap Peter heartily on the shoulder. “I said we’re fine. It’s a nice idea, Gamora, but it’s unnecessary. I say, let the people live in ignorance! Preparing for a war that will never come is only going to burden them, sweetheart. You understand, right?”

She swallowed. “Oh, I understand, your majesty. I understand perfectly.”

After dinner was over, the furniture was cleared away, opening up the enormous ballroom to the crowd. The orchestra faded away, the lights dimmed to create a pleasantly romantic atmosphere, and speakers suddenly appeared out of nowhere at the very tops of the pillars spanning the length of the room. Gamora turned to see Peter beside her, hands held high above his head, bursting with white light. Soft music slowly rolled in, filling the room. She took a deep breath in anticipation, knowing what was coming next.

_In the heart of the night...in the cool southern rain...there's a full moon in sight...shining down on the Pontchartrain..._

“Time for the first dance,” Peter murmured quietly, lowering his arms. “And I wanna talk to you. In private. Well, sort of. More like in front of all these people who can’t actually hear us? Not my greatest plan, but, y’know, we’ll make do.”

“Can’t we just slip away?” she whispered, though she accepted his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her to the middle of the room. Her heart drummed urgently in her throat, though not nearly as painfully as it had a few hours ago in the gardens.

“Uh...sneaking off sounds like we’re gonna go do...something else.” His hands went to her waist in a gentle hold, while she draped hers around the back of his neck, taking the last few steps closer. Their noses were nearly brushing, and she could faintly smell vanilla frosting on his breath.

Her cheeks warmed at the implications. “Right.” She scanned the room over Peter’s shoulder, trying to make out faces in the crowd. Groot was easiest to spot, being one of the tallest creatures there. He waved at her happily. She couldn’t help but smile back briefly before her gaze continued on. Her sister, scowling as always. Drax and Rocket, nodding sharply as they made eye contact. Ego was currently flanked by Yondu and Mantis, who seemed to be having a silent conversation quite literally behind his back. She wondered if there had been more to Mantis’s odd outburst from earlier than first appeared, maybe something Yondu knew about that Peter didn’t. She would have to bring it up to him later on when they weren’t being watched by what felt like everyone in the galaxy.

“So, Thanos knows about Dad,” Peter said quietly. He twirled her out and brought her back in. His arms were steady, but his hands were a little more unsure than they had been the last time they’d done this. The room burst into applause, oblivious. “What the hell does that mean for us?”

“It means Thanos will change his course,” Gamora replied. “He won’t kill your father, or let him kill himself.”

Peter snorted. “As if Dad would ever do that. You know what he’s like.”

“Yes, and I think he’d rather take his own life than beg for it.” Her eyes flickered towards Ego. “His pride wouldn’t let him sink so low.”

_And the river she rises...just like she used to do...she's so full of surprises...she reminds me of you..._

“If anything, I’m surprised Thanos didn’t bring it up when he talked to you earlier,” Peter continued. “Seems like the kinda thing he’d tell you about if you’re supposed to be plotting to kill Dad.” Gamora’s head dipped very slightly against Peter’s shoulder. It was the tiniest of movements, and yet - “Wait...he _did_ tell you already, didn’t he?”

“Quill - ”

“Right, this again. Y’know, I thought once we were friends, we’d be past all this,” he muttered. He looked more resigned than angry, as if he had come to expect it of her, and somehow, that hurt much more than if he had yelled. “Keeping stuff from each other? Only telling me when it’s convenient for _you_? And you were just pretendin’ earlier, weren’t you, tryna get Dad to bring it up so you wouldn’t have to tell me yourself. You wouldn’t’ve talked so much otherwise.”

_There's a nightbird singing...right on through till the dawn...and the streets are still ringing...with people carrying on..._

“I was planning on telling you eventually,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, before or _after_ Thanos gets you to kill me?” He let out a derisive chuckle at her dumbfounded expression. “Gamora, we talked about this on the night we met. He finds out he can’t kill Dad, he comes after me instead, for leverage. I’m not an idiot. I remember stuff, you know.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, I just - ”

“Whatever,” he huffed, schooling his expression back into something more pleasant, if a little vacant. The guests were starting to look worried. “I bet Thanos told you to sneak into my room while I’m sleeping and _literally_ stab me in the back.”

“And I told _you_ , I have no intention of hurting you.”

“Really? Because you’re doing a damn good job of it,” he shot back.

_And I trust in your love never falling down...and I trust in your love...just like I do in this town never falling down..._

She stared at him, perplexed. Though they had been rather rough during sparring practices, she never left anything more than a couple bruises that healed a few days later. But that wasn’t what he meant, was it - he was his father’s son after all, wasn’t he? His pride, his self-worth - all her talk of his lack of discipline and maturity, the derisive way she referred to his hobbies like they were just childish indulgences - that couldn’t have made him feel good.

“Maybe I’ve been unfair to you,” Gamora agreed. “And maybe this is just an excuse, but I don’t know what you expected of me. You know how I was raised, how I was socialized. Anger became part of my nature, and cruelty became my defense. I’m trying to unlearn everything that I am before it’s too late. So _say_ something instead of acting like a child every time I treat you like one.”

“Y’know, sometimes...sometimes I think I get you.” Peter gave her a wan smile. “And sometimes, I have no clue what’s on your mind.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does,” he retorted. “How are we s’posed to work together if I can’t figure you out?”

“I’m not a puzzle to be solved,” she reminded him, frowning. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a shift in the crowd, significant enough that a few people were stumbling aside like they were being pushed. _What the…_

“I didn’t mean it like _that_ , I know you’re not - ”

“Quill, _look out_!”

Peter let out a startled cry of surprise as Gamora dug her nails into his shoulders, twisted him around, and flattened them both to the floor, nearly crushing him with the sudden impact of her own body. He only heard the telltale _ri-i-ip_ of her dress being torn for a split second before it was drowned out by rapid gunfire. It lasted for a brief moment before the room filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps and panicked cries of terror.

“Gamora - are you okay, what _was_ that - ”

“Gamora, _catch_!”

Peter lifted his head very slightly to watch as Gamora leapt to her feet and snatched her sword out of the air, giving Drax a brief nod of gratitude before turning towards the source of the gunfire - a small group of armed Kree, led by a particularly intimidating one with ice-blue eyes and neural implants wrapped around the back of his skull. Peter slowly got to his feet, keeping himself low as he glanced in the direction of their people. Rocket, Drax, and Nebula were already brandishing their weapons, while Groot appeared to be growing in size, towering over the others even more so than before. Mantis had ducked behind Yondu, who had his yaka arrow floating at his shoulder, teeth gritted, and Ego - well, he was nowhere to be found.

“What do you think you’re doing, Korath?” Gamora demanded, jabbing the point of her sword in the direction of the supposed leader. “And how did you get here?”

“I’m here on behalf of your father,” Korath hissed. “I’m here for _him_.” He swung his gun towards Peter, whose hands were already outstretched and full of light, though he looked vaguely terrified, unsure of what to do.

“If you knew my father at all, you would know that this isn’t what he wants,” Gamora said slowly, taking measured side steps, doing her best to keep Peter behind her. He hadn’t perfected the use of his Celestial powers for combat by any means, and she only wanted them to be used as a last resort. “So leave, and take your men with you, before anyone else gets hurt.” Peter glanced over his shoulder briefly, horrified to see unmoving bodies and several people crawling desperately towards the doors. Most of the crowd had already dispersed, but a brave few had stayed behind to help the injured.

“This doesn’t concern you, _princess_ ,” Korath said tauntingly. He fired a warning shot above the crowd behind them. They shrieked in terror, cowering. Groot sprinted towards them, his branches spiraling out from his arms and shoulders to create a thick, armor-like layer. A couple Kree attempted to fire into him, only for the bullets to bounce off and fall to the floor harmlessly. Groot snarled in response before turning to brace himself over the crowd, allowing them to escape.

“You’re attempting to kill my husband and other innocent people. I’d say that concerns me greatly,” Gamora snapped.

“And what do _you_ care about innocents?” Korath sneered.

“I am not like you, Korath,” Gamora replied, straightening up slightly. “I take no pleasure in this. Not anymore. Or maybe I never did. Either way, you need to _leave_. Before your life becomes the last one I ever take.”

In lieu of answering, Korath fired at them both with a feral growl. This time, it was Peter who yanked Gamora to the ground, careful to pull her head into his chest before it could hit the floor. Gamora took a moment to briefly rip the veil out of her hair and kick off her shoes before getting back up. She charged at Korath with a warrior’s cry, sword held high above her head. Peter watched in both worry and awe as every single Kree fighter descended on her, surrounding her so tightly he could no longer spot her, aside from the occasional glint of her blade as it swung.

The others ran to Peter’s side for a better vantage point, looking desperately for a way in so they could help Gamora, but there was no way of doing so without pushing her attackers even closer. “What do we do?” Peter exclaimed.

“Guns and knives at this range are only gonna risk hurting her instead,” Rocket said, sounding unusually despondent. “Even one wrong move with Yondu’s arrow, and she’s toast. You gotta do something with that light o’ yours, Quill, and _fast_.”

“Crapcrapcrap - ” Peter looked around wildly for something he could manipulate - creating material took concentration, concentration that he currently didn’t have - before he heard her shriek in pain. “ _Gamora_!”

She had managed to take out five Kree already, now laid out across the floor like ragdolls, but there was a particularly persistent one who she had speared through the heart - just as he slashed her across the leg in return. Blood oozed from the wound, staining her dress as she grit her teeth in pain. She yanked her sword out of her assailant before stumbling over towards the last two Kree soldiers, who were braced in front of Korath, barrels aimed right at her head. “You are...truly the most idiotic...of Father’s subordinates...if you believe that _this_...is what he wants,” she panted.

“I never said it was _your_ father."

Gamora hesitated, thrown by the implications, before - “Take _that_!”

The ceiling crumbled with a mighty cracking sound, showering the three remaining men in a mountain of tile and rubble. It crushed them into the floor, shattering the tiles beneath and near-instantly killing the soldiers. Gamora leaped back, nearly falling on her behind as her leg seared hot with a fresh wave of pain, a cloud of dust whipping into her face and pouring into her lungs. She coughed violently, turning away as her eyes burned with ash.

Everyone ran towards her, including Groot, who had gotten the last of the civilians out of the ballroom. The glow of the Celestial light slowly dimmed as Peter reached for her, slipping an arm around her shoulders for support as she limped, clutching at her ribcage with her free hand. “I can’t believe that worked,” Peter breathed, coughing sharply as well. “I’ve never done that before, holy _crap_ \- ”

He was interrupted by a vicious snarl from behind them. They all turned to see Korath, struggling beneath the heavy debris, with only his head fully visible. Gamora moved as if to walk towards him, but Drax held up a hand to stop her. He stalked over to Korath, slow and menacing, before kneeling beside him, looming over the Kree general who now looked more like a hopeless child.

“You have hurt men, women, and _children_ who do not deserve it,” Drax said grievously. “You have caused great pain to the princess, who is both my friend and a greater warrior than you could ever hope to be. Remember this, _Kree_ , as I allow you to have the last breath you will ever take.” Korath could only let out a pathetic wheeze as Drax promptly yanked out his neural implants, tossing them aside like they were nothing. He twitched violently, thrashing against the ground, before crumpling into a still heap.

As if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders, Gamora collapsed to the floor, letting out a shaky exhale. She wasn’t sure she wanted to turn around and face the dead bodies that she knew were there. Peter sat beside her, reaching to gently cup her face. His other hand went to the constellation pin in her hair, which had gotten loose in battle, sliding it back in place. “You’re okay,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. “It’s over.”

“I have failed you, princess,” Drax said, shamefaced as he stood. “I did not protect you as I was sworn to do. What is my purpose, if I cannot fulfill such a simple task?”

“Protecting me _isn’t_ simple,” Gamora pointed out, gesturing at the dead Kree soldiers. “Which is why I can only trust people like you, Drax. You haven’t failed me at all.” He smiled, pleased. They fell silent, unsure of what to say next - what could they even _say_ , after what had just transpired - before she spoke again, this time to Peter. “What Korath said...about it not being _my_ father...you don’t think he means - ”

“Son!” Ego was practically springing across the length of the ballroom, his cape sweeping dramatically at his ankles. Nova Prime and her personal guard were following closely behind. “Peter, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I wasn’t really fighting. Gamora’s hurt, though,” Peter replied, gesturing towards her leg. “Can we get her something?”

Ego called over his shoulder at the guard members hovering by the door. “Don’t just stand there, get the girl some bandages and towels! And call the doctors! _Now_!” To Peter’s astonishment, Ego then kneeled on the ground beside Gamora, careful to avoid the alarming pool of blood beneath her. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling softly. “That was a real show you put on there, sweetheart. You’re braver than any soldier I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you...your majesty,” she said. Her breath was coming in short, her brain a little fuzzier than usual. She could hardly find the energy to feel insulted. “But this was all my fault. If I wasn’t here - ”

“The people out there, they’re scared outta their minds,” Ego interrupted. “But what you just did - you’re their _hero_ , Gamora. You saved Peter. You saved _everyone_.”

“Not everyone,” Gamora corrected quietly, looking over at the dead bodies for the first time. It was a sight she never wanted to get used to.

“They’re singing your praises, believe it or not,” Nova Prime said with a wry chuckle. “Don’t underestimate what you’ve done here tonight, your highness. Think of what would have happened if your husband was killed. You’ve stopped a _war_.”

Gamora looked around, uncertain. To her amazement, they all looked genuinely proud of her - even Nebula was half-smiling in her Nebula-ish way - and Peter’s eyes were glowing with something she couldn’t identify. He moved in closer, pulling her somewhat into his chest so she could lean against him as her balance became increasingly unsteady. Ego got to his feet, striding away with Nova Prime as they began discussing damage control, and the others took a few steps back to give them space. Peter lowered his forehead against hers, and it felt infinitely more intimate than their brief kiss from earlier.

“Thank you,” Peter murmured. “You were freaking badass. And I guess that’s one way to start off a marriage, am I right?” Gamora laughed, the pain in her leg subsiding for the time being as she tucked into the crook of his neck, warm.

“Well, I _was_ kind of hoping the wedding would be over already. Should be careful what I wish for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Sorry for the long chapter...again. I keep telling myself to keep them shorter so you don't get bored but then I decided to introduce like five new (and important!) plot points in this one, oops. Hope you enjoyed it anyways!
> 
> For now, let's just assume I'll be updating once a month, possibly sooner for the next one since it won't be as plot-heavy, so expect chapter five to come sometime in the first two weeks of March. Either way, I usually post updates about my fic schedule on tumblr, and you can also read this over [there](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/170888356369/everybody-wants-to-rule-the-world-48) if you'd like!
> 
> I based the description of Gamora's dress off [this one](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/bridal-fall-2018/elie-saab/slideshow/collection#9), but with [this](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2012-couture/elie-saab/slideshow/collection#46) color palette. Songs in this chapter are: [Lido Shuffle](https://open.spotify.com/track/2NtqZmfRIDkXJ2YvY2Kv1F?si=kq5NnDF2RneAsOg7hQ-GHg) by Boz Scaggs and [Heart of the Night](https://open.spotify.com/track/6fNID7koTl1dZBCs6FmK4E?si=tSEua531Q7WiiojTpElCSg) by Poco. Also imagine that [King and Queen of Hearts](https://open.spotify.com/track/75UoXjRBibZdgsBdXxSpd1?si=auZZR_49Qh6xew9L0r34KQ) by David Pomeranz was playing at some point - before the reception, maybe? - as I wanted to get that in there but the word count was already getting to be too much, haha
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated (the comments on the last chapter in particular were so lovely), and I'll see y'all in the next one!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Help me to decide...help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure..._

To Gamora’s surprise (and relief), Ego had, for once, not been exaggerating when he proclaimed she had become something of a hero. Word spread quickly across the galaxy of the new Celestial princess and how she had saved everyone’s lives - especially that of her new husband’s. Leaders and common folk alike were practically singing her praises for how she handled the Kree invasion, not that she remembered much. The rest of the wedding night was a blur - even with her accelerated healing, blood loss was still blood loss - and she spent the next few days on bedrest, letting her body modifications do most of the work.

Unfortunately, the gash in her leg wasn’t the only injury she’d sustained, also having a sprained ankle, a couple cracked ribs, and bruises that made every muscle twitch and every cough burn like wildfire, but it was hardly the worst she’d ever experienced. In fact, she would almost consider them a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, if not for the other consequences of her injuries, such as -

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own meals, Quill, it’s only a limp,” Gamora groaned as her bedroom doors swung open to reveal, for the fourth time that week, Peter, whistling cheerfully as he brought in a serving tray laden with food. The guard standing by looked like he was trying not to laugh at her plight.

“Morning to you, too,” Peter chirped, sitting by her feet. Rolling her eyes, she still turned over so he could place the tray on her lap. “Look, _you_ said you wanted to stick to your super healthy diet, but that doesn’t mean _I_ have to, so they have to prepare this separately. Really, this is just me bringing the chef’s personalized meals so they don’t have to come to you, and you don’t have to go to them. I’m doing you both a favor.”

“And gracing me with your presence at the same time,” she drawled.

He grinned. “Exactly! Wait, are you being sarcastic again? Because I can’t tell sometimes.”

She swatted at him with her book before picking up her fork. “What’s on the agenda today? Were you at breakfast with the others?” Peter looked at her, suspiciously doe-eyed, before she got the message. She let out an annoyed huff, pushing the tray towards him. “For someone who claims to not want to eat the same food as me, you’re _very_ insistent on stealing it.”

“Food tastes better when it belongs to someone else,” he said defensively through a mouthful of grits. He began coughing. “Oh, never mind, what is this, _soy?_ Ew.” Wrinkling her nose, Gamora leaned forward to slowly push his jaw closed. The sight of Peter chewing did wonders for killing her appetite. “Nah, nothing’s going on today. Dad’s doing his usual thing, which is who _knows_ what, and Mantis is at that school-opening ceremony in the capital. You got any ideas?”

“I’m still confined to this bed for another couple days,” she said forlornly. “I’d get up and walk out right now if it wasn’t for your doctors. I swear I’m fine, but they’re acting like I’ll keel over the second I’m on my feet.”

“You wanna hang out with me, then? I could keep you company.” Peter tilted his head sideways in what she supposed was meant to look endearing. Personally, she thought he looked like he had a neck injury. “I could bring you more books. Or we could talk strategy, not that there’s really anything left to plan, I mean, you were super thorough in those meetings we had. Or maybe a holoscreen! We can watch a movie, I found a bunch of Terran videotapes at one of the Nova trading posts…” He trailed off when he noticed she wasn’t responding, looking at her expectantly.

Oddly enough, the incident at the wedding had brought them closer, despite the confusing conversation - or more accurately, _confrontation_ \- they had moments beforehand. After she had woken from her medical treatment, Peter remained by her bedside, both to apologize profusely for his childish behavior and to proclaim her status as the “kingdom’s resident badass”. Gamora, of course, had accepted, knowing he only meant well, and apologized in return for being evasive - he had a point; she couldn’t expect him to trust her if she wasn’t going to be straightforward herself. Ever since then, things were surprisingly smooth. No confrontations, no accusations, no _secrets_. She had even told him about Thanos’s order for her to seduce him.

“Seriously? What is this, a movie?” Peter had chuckled. “And, what, it ends with you having fallen in love with me for real, but me thinking you’re lying when you say so because you were lying the whole time, and I don’t know if I love you or just the _fake_ you, and it’s all a _bi-i-ig_ misunderstanding - yeah, I’ve seen this before.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I _also_ find the idea of me being in love with you laughable,” Gamora had retorted.

“I’ll have you know that I’m _super_ lovable. Just ask anyone. Literally, you could fly into any city on this planet, ask some random stranger - ” If Gamora hadn’t been so comfortable under her bedsheets at the time, she would’ve been tempted to sit up just so she could smack him on the shoulder.

Now, she stared back, wondering how she could possibly pass the time. Peter was right - everything they needed for the inevitable “pseudo-revolution”, as he liked to call it, was ready to go at moment’s notice. She also couldn’t exactly get up and walk out, what with the guards following the doctor’s orders to keep her confined. “If you spend all day in my room,” she said slowly, “do you think your father will interpret it as your newfound devotion to me, and mention it to _my_ father? Keep him placated?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like we’re a bunch of schoolkids passin’ notes,” Peter laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Oh, sure,” she relented, cracking a gentle smile. “I’ll go stir-crazy in here otherwise. But if you make so much as _one_ bad joke, I’m sending for Nebula to keep me company instead.”

“No bad jokes here.” He exaggeratedly puffed out his chest, chin held high. “I’m _hilarious_.”

“You’ve already done it. Get out,” she deadpanned, taking a long sip of her drink.

“Too late! I’ve claimed a pillow.” He threw himself down on top of the duvet, staring up at the underside of the canopy hanging over them. “Y’know, this bed’s never been used for sleeping.”

“What else would it - oh, _Quill_ ,” Gamora groaned, recoiling. “You’re _disgusting_. And your actual bedroom is just one door away, why didn’t you use that instead?”

“Privacy reasons,” Peter said defensively. “No one gets to be in there but me and my family. And oh man, if you think _that’s_ gross - and it’s not, it’s totally normal - never use a blacklight on the Milano. Looks like a Jackson Pollock painting in there.” She blinked. “He’s like an artist...guy. I, uh - yeah.”

“Is it too late for me to move back into the guest quarters?” she sighed.

Despite herself, Gamora spent most of her recovery in Peter’s company, with occasional visits from her people (Peter was always mysteriously absent whenever Nebula was around). Though she was much more used to them, they were rather macabre in comparison to Peter’s cheerfulness. She didn’t exactly want to deal with Nebula’s attitude or Drax and Rocket’s squabbling when she was so lethargic from being stuck in bed. Peter was quite adept at entertaining her, telling her stories about his Terran childhood or creating random objects out of thin air for fun. It was a good distraction for an otherwise droll recovery.

Once the doctors finally let her go, she was back to her training regimen, pleasantly surprised to find Peter hadn’t slacked in her absence. Apparently, he had gone to Drax and requested his help (“ _Big_ mistake - I can’t count all the times he accidentally dislocated my shoulder”), and trained with him for at least an hour per day.

“Discipline,” Gamora echoed, smiling. “Good to see that we’re making progress in more ways than one.”

He managed to disarm her a few times on their first day back, practically knocking the wind out of her as he slammed her down into the mat. He was sharper, quicker, more precise than before - though admittedly, the one that had gotten her the most was where he was up to his usual tricks.

“ _Shit_ \- I think you broke my nose - ”

“Hold still, let me see - _ow_ \- ” Gamora was flat on her back, Peter straddling her with a triumphant grin on his face, his nose completely untouched. She stared up at him, unimpressed. “Are you _trying_ to crack my ribs again?”

“I’m sorry, I thought this was supposed to be serious, disciplined, combat pra - OW!” _Now_ he was bleeding. A couple drops ended up on Gamora’s shirt, but as far as she was concerned? Worth it. “Okay, I deserved that one.”

As glad as she was to be back on her feet, they soon settled into something a bit too routine even for _her_ liking. Gamora would wake early, have breakfast alone in her room, then train with Drax and Nebula before being joined by Peter. After their one-on-one session, she would shower and spend the rest of her day either reading, studying up on the kingdom’s history and policies (Yondu had been a great help in that regard), or in the company of her people. Dinner was always in the dining hall, where she and Peter mostly chatted with each other about nonsensical topics in order to satiate Ego’s little domestic fantasy. Evenings, once again, were either spent alone, or, increasingly more often, with Peter.

He had taken to sprawling himself across her bed after dinner, sleepily satisfied from the food and looking for a peaceful way to close out the night before eventually returning to his own room. Gamora wasn’t sure what to make of it at first - was this what friends did? - but after the first post-wedding month had passed, she came to expect him on a regular basis, even finding herself disappointed whenever he was absent.

One particular evening, Gamora walked into her bedroom to find Peter already there, looking more downtrodden than usual, clutching his Walkman over his chest. She could hear faint strains of a song playing through his headphones.

_Everybody plays the fool sometime...there's no exception to the rule...listen, baby, it may be factual, may be cruel...I ain't lyin', everybody plays the fool..._

“Something wrong?” she asked, disappearing into the wardrobe to change.

“I had a fight with Mantis,” Peter grumbled, pushing his headphones away from his ears.

Gamora paused before quickly changing into her sleepclothes and walking back out, staring at him in disbelief. “What? When? You seemed fine at dinner.”

“Yeah, only for Dad’s sake,” he sighed, settling into the pillows. “She’s just been actin’ real weird lately, so this morning after breakfast, I asked her what was up. I dunno, I thought she was stressing out over the plans or something. Changing her mind.”

“And she didn’t tell you anything, did she,” Gamora guessed, joining him on the bed.

“Not a word,” he replied. “I pushed a little harder, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but...I worry about her sometimes. I try not to baby her, but it’s hard when Dad still does it, y’know? And she doesn’t really have friends, other than the local kids. Sometimes I do weekend trips off-planet to have some fun, and whenever I invite her, she always says Dad’s got stuff for her to do. Don’t make any sense, considering he _never_ has stuff for us to do. Ever.”

Gamora pursed her lips in consideration. “Have you ever looked into it? Maybe it’s related to that thing she wouldn’t tell us about at the wedding.”

He shook his head. “She’s always gone and done her own thing, and I usually leave it alone, but it’s like...it’s like ever since we started this whole plan, she’s got more to hide from me. We grew up together...spent so much time together. But now it’s like she isn’t around anymore. And I don’t know what I did wrong.” He lifted his head to meet her gaze, half-expecting her to make a crack about how he was _always_ wrong. Instead, there was a sense of sadness reflected in her dark eyes.

_Falling in love is such an easy thing to do...and there's no guarantee that the one you love...is gonna love you…._

“Well, if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that keeping secrets only makes it worse in the end,” Gamora said softly. “She’ll come around to you, Quill. You’re much too close to let this get in the way of your relationship.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks. And I hope you’re right.” Clearing his throat, he straightened up. “Hey, so, I was gonna ask you for a favor - ”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It is, I promise. I was thinking, we’ve been sitting on our asses for almost two months now, waiting for Thanos to show. Meanwhile, he keeps insisting - ”

“ - not until your father starts showing signs of desperation, I know, I was there for all of those awful weekly calls,” Gamora shuddered. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe we gotta get it going ourselves, and get _you_ some good publicity at the same time,” he suggested. “You’re stressed out about what might happen after we - _y’know_ \- if you’re just gonna get shoved into jail forever and never be free again. I say, we go pay Xandar a visit, show off a little and do an event or something. Maybe hang around the Nova Corps so Nova Prime keeps you in her good books. It’ll boost your reputation _and_ make Dad all stressed out.”

“That’s...actually a pretty decent idea. And much better than sulking around here forever,” Gamora agreed, nodding slowly.

“See? I’m totally a genius.” Peter pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she shot back. “But let’s do it. Are we bringing the others?”

“Might get me and Mantis back on the same page. So, yeah. Let Dad stew all alone for a few days. It’ll be fun!”

* * *

Once the Milano had settled in, cruising along smoothly through space like they had all the time in the world, Peter shooed Rocket and Yondu away, telling them he would join them and the others in a few minutes for breakfast. It was an early Sunday morning, and they were en route to Xandar to meet with Nova Prime. Their public personas would have to be on display for the entire trip, but Peter was confident by now that the others would be able to handle the pressure.

He leaned back in his seat, staring out into the cosmos in an almost dream-like state as he thought about what had transpired over the last little while, ever since the wedding. Some good, some bad - Mantis becoming increasingly distant, definitely bad. He liked the camaraderie of his new friendships (okay, _friendship_ , singular, with Gamora), but he also missed the old days of just him and his sister. They were such opposites in so many ways, but it was what made their bond so strong. Now, she barely talked to him for more than five minutes before excusing herself to go do something else. And Ego, he was a tough one to crack as well, not that _that_ was anything new. Peter considered confronting him about Korath, but what he could he possibly say? Gamora was almost certain Korath had been hired by Ego to go after Peter as a publicity stunt, but Peter wasn’t so sure himself - in what world did Ego think he could trust the Kree to not actually hurt him, especially one that worked for _Thanos_? He was lucky Gamora had been there to save him, to fight back in ways that no one else would.

 _Gamora_. Peter smiled to himself, almost giddy. He couldn’t help it. Thinking about her made him happy. She’d been coming out of her shell very slowly, allowing herself to laugh more often, to sleep in longer and take bigger portions of food, to tease him and talk with him for hours at a time. She wasn’t quite the harsh, militant, no-nonsense girl he had met two months ago. Sure, she was every bit as confident and disciplined as ever, but the tension in her shoulders had all but vanished, the formality of her vocabulary loosened. She was still confused by his Terran references and became easily irritated by his antics, but there was a gentleness to her that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had been all along, and she was only letting it show now.

“Quill, are you _daydreaming_ up here?” He nearly fell out of his seat at the sound of her voice. “Breakfast was ready ten minutes ago, your food’s going to go cold if you don’t come down.”

“I know, I was just...looking.” He gestured towards the glass. “It’s real nice, getting to see space like this. And not to be a big Terran cliche, but I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. And now, here I am. Peter Quill, next-level astronaut.”

“I’ve only seen glimpses of it, if I ever cared to look out the window.” Gamora took measured steps forward, her hands coming to rest on the back of his chair. “I didn’t exactly take the time to stop and observe. I had a job to do.”

“Do you want to someday?” he asked. “Get out there and explore?”

“It’s a nice thought, I suppose,” she agreed. “Where I lived, on Sanctuary, it wasn’t exactly a haven. And everywhere else I’ve been for more than a day was either a safehouse or a jail cell.”

“What if...what if that’s what we did, after all this?” Peter lifted his head to look at her. Her gaze was firmly cast outwards, among the stars. “Go on an epic adventure.”

She looked back at him. “Where?”

“Everywhere. Wherever you want.” He gestured wildly, arms spread wide. “I’ve only ever gone to planets that I can reach within a couple days, but imagine where we could go if we had our whole lives ahead of us!”

Gamora smiled sadly. “It’s a nice thought,” she repeated, turning and walking away. “Breakfast, Quill. Come on.”

They touched down in Xandar by the late afternoon. It was already getting dark, but still, Gamora found herself silently admiring her surroundings as she made her way down the landing ramp. Xandar was the complete opposite of Ego’s planet; modern, slick - stylish, even. There was something strange about being in a new place without having to immediately hide or establish a cover, and it left her feeling somewhat exposed. The rest of her people looked just as uncomfortable as she felt, especially as Nova Prime approached the landing pad in her usual brisk stride, flanked by two Nova officers.

“Good to see you again, your highnesses,” she said, shaking their hands firmly. “I hope you had a comfortable flight. You have a very...unique-looking ship there, Prince Peter.”

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Peter beamed, turning to admire the Milano briefly before looking back to Nova Prime. “I’d love to hear what you have in store for us, ma’am.”

“Why don’t we get you all settled in first?” she suggested. “Denarian Dey and Denarian Saal will escort you to your rooms. We’ll have dinner in my suite at eight and discuss everything then.”

The Nova officers led them into an elevator and then through a series of winding hallways, providing them with specialized access passes that would allow them into the common area of Nova Prime’s private floor, but keep them away from the work floors. Denarian Saal eyed Rocket pointedly as he mentioned the weapon laboratories (clearly, there was a story there that Peter was itching to know more about). Gamora was dismayed to find out that she and Peter would be sharing a room.

“At least it’s two beds,” Peter pointed out as he lugged his bag onto one of them. “There, we’ve avoided another cliche.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Quill,” Gamora sighed. She debated whether to unpack at all, considering they were only here for a few days. If something went wrong, if she needed to make a quick getaway, having to throw everything back into her bag would only slow her down. She then dropped her bag unceremoniously on the floor, by the nightstand. “Did you see the way Denarian Saal was eyeing me and my people? And he thinks _we’re_ uncivilized.”

“What do you mean?” He flopped onto the bed with a satisfied exhale.

“ _You_ may be innocent at the moment, Quill, but _we’re_ already criminals, remember? And now, here we are, with access to Nova Prime’s private rooms. He probably suspects we’re here to make an attempt on her life, or at least, commit some sort of petty crime. He’ll sweep our rooms when we’re not here to make sure we haven’t stolen anything. Scan hours of security footage to ensure we never went anywhere we weren’t supposed to be.” She shrugged. “It’s how _everyone_ acts around us.”

“Well, hopefully, after this week, he’ll change his mind. Hopefully _everyone_ changes their minds.” Peter sat up, his back against the headboard. “That’s the whole point of this trip! And you saved my life, that wasn’t nothing. People believe you’re one of the good guys. Now they just have to like you as a person, too.”

“Being likable is such an overrated quality,” she complained, sitting at the foot of her own bed. “It’s only ever people who are already liked who think it’s important, because they already have it. But if you’re unloved, unwanted...the desire to be liked can turn into desperation very quickly.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “You said once that my people look at me like I’m a hero, instead of some all-knowing master. You’d rather be the master?”

She shook her head, staring intently at the floor. “I’d rather not be anything to anyone at all if it means I’ll finally be left alone.”

Peter fell silent, mulling it over. “Y’know, if...if I was being too pushy earlier, about going on, like, adventures together after this, I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to stick around. It’s _your_ life. It’d be fun, but...I understand if you just wanna leave. Even _I_ annoy myself sometimes,” he added jokingly.

“Now you know why I don’t bother with friendships, or even alliances. It creates obligations,” Gamora chuckled softly. “I don’t like loose ends, unanswered questions. And relying on intuition...it’s just not me.” At his frustrated expression, she quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, waving her off.

“Quill, you can’t lecture me about keeping secrets and then - ”

“It’s not a secret, I just - I don’t think you wanna hear it.” He relented once she glared him into submission. “Fine, fine. I just wish you’d gotten your childhood back somehow. Then maybe, you’d have dreams like the rest of us, instead of thinking about worst-case scenarios all the time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good that you do that stuff, but...I dunno.”

“So I was forced to grow up fast. That’s not exactly unique. You had to do the same thing,” Gamora pointed out.

“Yeah, but I live in a big fancy palace with tons of people lookin’ after me. You had to deal with so much _crap_ , Gamora, all on your own sometimes, and I don’t know how you did it and still came out...normal. Sane.” He shuffled a bit closer, his knees swinging around the side of his bed so he could properly face her.

“Sanity is subjective,” she reminded him. Peter laughed, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in something of a half-smile. She found she liked the sound of it - his real laugh, not that odd, forced sound that escaped him whenever he was with his father or in the company of people who knew nothing about him. She wanted to make him laugh more. “I dream of being able to choose my own future, I guess. Do more than just survive. Beyond that, I have no real big ambitions.”

Before Peter could reply, a harsh _knock-knock-knock_ cut through, followed by “Hey, idiots! Do ya check your messages or what? Nova Prime’s callin’ us up to her place, like, right now!” Gamora glanced briefly at her communication device, startled to realize it was already 7:45.

“Give us a minute to change, Rocket,” she called back, yanking out clothes from her bag at random before slipping into the bathroom without a second glance. Still, Peter smiled to himself before reaching for his own.

* * *

Gamora was grateful to find that Nova Prime, for the most part, steered clear of addressing her alone, considering they were yet to have a conversation in which Gamora _didn’t_ run off. Rocket was a little ruder than Gamora would have liked, and Drax’s blunt nature made the Nova guards twitch, but at least Nebula stuck to her promise to be seen and not heard for the entire meal.

“I was surprised when you reached out to me, Prince Peter,” Nova Prime admitted by the time dessert came around. “Especially so soon after the wedding. I figured your sister would have come alone, since she’s been handling all of your interplanetary affairs lately.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Peter said, glancing over at Mantis. She seemed very invested in her pudding all of a sudden. “What affairs?”

“The...outreach center,” Nova Prime replied slowly, furrowing her brow. “Have you not been...you haven’t, have you?”

“I was going to surprise Peter with the news today, Nova Prime, do not worry that you have overstepped,” Mantis said reassuringly, finally lifting her head so she could address Peter. “We have been talking for a while now about setting up an outreach center that will help reformed criminals prepare for rehabilitation on our planet. Most are still unaware of what we do, but Xandar has one of the biggest holding centers in the galaxy. If we partner with the Nova Corps to provide them with a second chance - food, shelter, healthcare, education - they will be prepared to join us on Ego and expand our population.”

“I wasn’t aware we were _lookin’_ to expand,” Peter frowned. “Does Dad know about this?”

“Of course he does!” Mantis exclaimed. “He provided the funding and set one of his advisors to task in assisting me. But this is mostly _my_ project.” She was practically glowing with pride. Still, both Peter and Gamora couldn’t help but be a little wary. Where was this coming from?

“And why wasn’t _I_ in on this?” Peter demanded, leaning across the table. Nova Prime glanced briefly between the siblings in worry.

“The opening ceremony is tomorrow morning, your highnesses,” she interrupted a little louder than necessary. “I was originally expecting Princess Mantis by herself, but now that you’re all here, well, we might as well proceed with everyone. You can give a few speeches, explain the rehabilitation program and its relation to your planet’s social work system. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you would like afterward, but if you’re interested in good publicity, I’d recommend spending your time here volunteering to help.”

“And by _all_ of us, that includes my subjects as well,” Gamora said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Peter, who looked significantly more irritated than he had been five minutes ago. Sometimes, it seemed like his temper was worse than hers. “My people are non-negotiable.”

“Yes, of course,” Nova Prime promised. Groot looked pleased at being included. The others were scowling at Gamora as if she committed a great offense. “You are _all_ distinguished guests of mine, Princess. We’ll have extra security for everyone’s protection, given what happened at your last public event.”

The moment dinner ended, Mantis practically flew right out the door in a hurry. Peter ran after her before Gamora could intervene, grabbing Mantis by the arm and pulling her aside, next to the elevator. “ _Really?_ An outreach center. When you know that we’re...you know, what’s about to happen,” he said quickly, furiously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What’s this all about?”

“I just wanted to be of use for once,” Mantis replied evenly, her eyes darting sideways as the others entered the hallway. “Prove that I am not just a sleeping pill for Father, or a playmate for the brave, _powerful_ prince.”

Peter blanched like he’d been hit. “What’s that s’posed to mean? And where is this coming from, Mantis? Did Dad say something to you?”

They were interrupted by the quiet _ding_ of the elevator, its doors sliding open to invite them back to their rooms. Everyone filed in, Mantis immediately retreating into the furthest corner. Gamora slid neatly between the Celestial siblings, glaring at Peter in warning. To her surprise, it seemed to have no effect. “This was not his idea, if that is what you are thinking. Why have you been so suspicious of me lately?”

“Because you’re actin’ suspicious!” Peter exclaimed. He took another step forward, but Yondu reached over to clap him on the shoulder firmly, yanking him back.

“Quill, c’mon. Don’t fight now,” Yondu warned. “You been drinkin’ too much tonight, ain’t you?”

“And _you_ , you know somethin’ I don’t, don’t you?” Peter snapped, shoving Yondu away. Yondu’s shoulder banged into the elevator wall with an unceremonious echo, causing the entire carriage to rattle precariously. Mantis let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

Yondu straightened his coat lapels, his eyes harder than they had been before. “You’re gettin’ paranoid, boy. I suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” he said cooly, jabbing a finger into Peter’s chest. “And you show your sister some respect. Don’t make me ask again.”

Before Peter could retaliate, Gamora grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him away. “Quill.” He turned to look at her, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen. “Let’s go to the roof. You need air.” The others exchanged dubious looks before silently stepping out onto the guest floor, leaving Peter and Gamora behind.

“What if Mantis is turning her back on us?” Peter demanded once the doors had closed. “She could’ve been feedin’ Dad information on everything we’ve been doing this whole damn time, settin’ up this ‘outreach center’ so he can have his own personal army of criminals.”

“Get some air, Quill,” Gamora repeated, sighing. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

Upon reaching the rooftop level, they found a quiet spot away from the hum of the generators, settling down onto the gravel and staring out into the pitch black of the Xandarian night sky. Despite the fury that was practically radiating off Peter, he leaned into Gamora somewhat, their knees and shoulders brushing. Though she could smell the alcohol on his breath, his eyes were focused, his speech clear. No, he wasn’t exactly drunk. It was something else. “Look, Quill, you and I, we’ve had our fair share of fights. And from what I can tell, you like people, but you have trouble trusting them sometimes. Don’t let your anger towards your father become anger towards everyone else. I know what that’s like, and it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“So, what, you don’t think Mantis is being weird?” Peter’s voice was quieter than before, almost sobering. “Even _you_ think I’m crazy.”

“No, actually, I think you’re onto something,” Gamora replied. “And I want to question her, _badly_ , same as you. But it’s late. We’re tired, and stressed. You think yelling at her in front of everyone else will get the job done? It’ll be direct, sure, but it won’t be effective.”

“And you’re all about results,” he snarked, though he seemed to regret it the second it left his mouth. He hugged his knees into his chest, blinking slowly into the darkness. Gamora’s clothes and hair were so dark, he could barely see her, save for the slight silvery glint of the metal in her skin. He had never asked her about it, but he hoped he would be able to someday. “What do we do?”

“If it’ll ease your mind - and your temper - I’ll keep a closer eye on her,” she promised. “Maybe she’s been conning us the whole time. Or maybe she’s just withholding information out of ignorance, and not contempt. We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, maybe try to not be so hostile?”

“Gotta say, never thought I’d hear _you_ of all people give me that advice,” he laughed. “And thanks. For helping me outta there tonight. I owe you, again.”

“A working relationship isn’t a business deal, Quill.” Gamora gave him a reassuring smile. “We owe each other nothing.”

“ _Friendship_ ,” Peter corrected, grinning. “And right, no obligations, got it. Can we head back now? It’s so freaking cold up here.”

* * *

After an unceremoniously brief breakfast in their own rooms - Peter spent most of it pestering Gamora on how to speak to the media, to which she retorted that he didn’t exactly have that much experience, either - they all piled into one of the Nova-issued secured vehicles, with two more boxing them in for safety. The short drive to the outreach center was filled with mundane conversation, mostly prompted by Nova Prime, while Peter and Mantis seemed to be trying their best not to make eye contact. Everyone felt horribly uncomfortable by the time they stepped outside.

“And I thought _I_ looked ready to kill,” Gamora murmured as she looped her arm with Peter’s. There was a steady crowd of photographers and media already forming by the entrance, especially eager to catch photos or get quotes from the newlyweds who hadn’t been seen or heard from since the wedding. “I also thought our talk last night would’ve taught you something. Seems like I was wrong.”

“Prince Peter! Princess Gamora!” One of the reporters squeezed their way through to the front, sticking his recording device right under Gamora’s nose. She blanched before straightening, trying her best not to look so disappointed. “How have you been, your highnesses? Are you well, princess? We heard you were on bedrest - are you already pregnant?”

“I was _stabbed_ \- ” “Hey, hey, no one’s pregnant - oh god, are people saying she’s pregnant? - ”

“But there are plans for children in the future, yes?” another reporter prompted.

“Guys, guys, c’mon, our visit today is about the outreach center. It’s not about me and Gamora,” Peter laughed somewhat uncomfortably. “We’re lookin’ at how we can improve our policies and resource allocation, rehabilitate people who deserve a second chance. We’re not thinkin’ about _babies_.”

“But if you don’t continue the family line, the Celestial legacy dies with you, your highness,” the second one said snidely.

Gamora scowled. “And that’s none of our concern right now, _thank you_ ,” she shot back cooly. “Now will you let us pass? We have a job to do.” Peter wasn’t sure whether to wince or laugh as Gamora practically dragged him to the doors and nearly knocked the reporters over in the process, where everyone else was standing, watching them bemusedly.

In many ways, the opening ceremony was reminiscent of all the things Gamora had hated most about their wedding - the pomp and circumstance, the empty words, the stiff, insincere smiles that left her cheeks aching for relief. But there was a genuine happiness that positively radiated off Mantis once she began addressing the crowd. She had clearly found her calling, her passion. Once more, there was an explosion of sound and movement as everyone clapped and cheered at the very end, Peter reaching around Gamora so he could squeeze Mantis’s shoulder in congratulations. She smiled tightly at him before turning back to the cameras.

Afterward, they did an open tour of the facility, guided mostly by Mantis and Nova Prime. Gamora found herself genuinely interested in what they had to say. She had seen her fair share of criminals who had been led astray through no fault of their own, herself included, and a place like this could very well work miracles for them.

“Hey, I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like.” Gamora turned, not realizing Peter was right behind her, his fingers ever-so-slightly brushing her waist in an attempt to stay nearby. The event was over, and everyone was filing out of the building neatly, chatting to themselves and bowing as they passed the royal family members. “Not like we’ve got anything else to do today.” Raising an eyebrow, Gamora gestured wordlessly to Mantis nearby, who looked unsure of what to do next. “Oh, right - hey, Mantis! You, me, Gamora, the city? You wanna come?”

“I suppose,” Mantis said quietly. “I will have to check with Yondu.” Peter looked at Gamora pleadingly as his sister began walking away. Gamora rolled her eyes in disbelief - really, _this_ was the extent of his effort? - before jogging after the other girl.

“I could use another tour guide. Your brother isn’t very observant, after all,” Gamora added, looking over at Peter with a smirk. He seemed half-offended, half-agreeable. “Either that, or you’ll be returning to Nova headquarters, where you’ll likely spend the rest of your day in the company of my people. I’m sure they would _love_ to have you.”

Mantis looked disturbed by the prospect. “A tour sounds like a great idea!” Mantis said quickly. “Where shall we start, Peter? What do you think Gamora would like?”

He hummed thoughtfully, reaching for Gamora’s hand when he realized the nearby photographers were still snapping away, watching them, _waiting_ for them to do something interesting. “Why don’t we start with a bookstore?”

* * *

“You and Peter get along much better than I would have expected,” Mantis admitted several hours later. The three of them were sat in a quaint homestyle restaurant, watched closely by Yondu, who was sat by himself a few tables away. Peter had disappeared to the bathroom after they had finished eating, leaving the girls by themselves. “I do not need my powers to see that you enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is this what we’re going to talk about while he’s gone? How gauche.” Gamora sipped her water. “He worries about you, Mantis. I doubt that’s news to you, but he does. You’ve been acting strange lately, and the fact that I can tell when I hardly know you is a testament to your odd behavior. He may have been rash last night, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

“He no longer trusts me. He thinks I mean to turn against him because I have been spending time with Father,” Mantis whispered. “It...it hurts. Knowing that after everything we have done together, he would still think so little of me.”

“Quill thinks the _world_ of you,” Gamora insisted. “That’s why this weighs so heavily on him. And it’s no secret that Quill and I only get along about half of the time. But we know we can trust each other. And you both think you’ve lost that. All we ask is that you tell the truth.”

Mantis couldn’t help but grin, something rather awkward, yet endearing. “You and Peter have become a ‘we’, haven’t you?” she said slyly. “Are you not a little curious about what he thinks when you are around?”

“He’s almost _too_ easy to read, so no, I don’t. And don’t change the subject,” Gamora said sternly.

“I am not, I just know he will be coming back soon, and - do you really not want to know?” Mantis blinked innocently.

“We are _not_ having this discussion, not now, not _ever_ \- ”

“Discussion? What’d I miss?” Peter seemingly popped up out of nowhere, leaning against the back of Gamora’s chair with an easy smile.

“Mantis wanted to tell me stories of your shared adolescence, but I think it’s time we address some of our interpersonal issues instead,” Gamora lied easily, gesturing for him to take a seat. Peter obeyed, though he looked very much like he was regretting having returned to the table. “Your relationship with each other really isn’t my business. But clearly, you have unresolved issues, and I have no interest in letting anyone’s emotions get in the way of our plans. So either deal with it like adults and drop the issue, or talk it _out_ like adults and solve it. We are _not_ leaving until this is behind us, and there _are_ no other choices.”

“Of _course_ you’re giving an ultimatum,” Peter muttered under his breath, ignoring the dirty look Gamora sent his way. “Right, um, Mantis. Do you feel like...like you wanna back out?”

“No, not at all!” Mantis exclaimed. “You see how Father treats me. I mean so little to him compared to you. I had...I had absolutely no one until Yondu brought you home. You remember what I was like.”

“You were scared, like, _all_ the time. You didn’t know how to read or write, ‘cause Dad didn’t think it was important.” Peter shook his head, disgusted at the memory. “And you were confused the first time I tried to hug you.”

“I thought you were going to strangle me.” Mantis let out a tiny, awful laugh. “I thought I had started to trust someone who wanted to hurt me instead. That I was stupid for thinking I could.” She glanced at Gamora, whose eyes were suspiciously glossy. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “This was probably not what you wanted us to talk about, was it?”

“No, this is...it’s good.” Gamora swallowed, clearing her throat harshly. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Maybe you and I aren’t as different as I first thought.”

Mantis smiled weakly in return. “I know what everyone thinks of me,” she replied. “Quiet, sweet, naive Mantis. She feels feelings, she helps people sleep. She is not very clever, or brave, or interesting. She just...is.”

“Mantis - ” Peter protested.

“I’m guilty of thinking those exact things when I first arrived,” Gamora interrupted. “And I also worried about what your powers would mean for my privacy. I trust you now. At least, enough to get this done. But that trust won’t last if you continue to evade us.”

“I would not betray your privacy,” Mantis frowned. “And I would not go out of my way to hurt you. _Either_ of you.”

“Then where do you go when you say Dad’s got a job for you?” Peter asked, beginning to grow impatient. “All those times where I ask you if you wanna hang out, and you’re busy. Sometimes you’re both gone for _days_ , Mantis. Where do you go?”

Mantis remained silent for a moment, staring into the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The warm yellow light cast an eerie, almost sickly glow over her face, illuminating her enormous, dark eyes. “The only secret I can tell you,” she said quietly, “is that there is a secret that Father and I share. And it is something you must never know about, or it will kill you.”

“Wait, literally?” Peter leaned towards her in concern. “Mantis...what has he got you doing?”

“Please,” Mantis pleaded, trembling. “I can see that it is frustrating you. And I _hate_ not being able to tell you what it is. But if you still trust me at all, you will not ask me about it again.” She smiled weakly. “You are such a good brother to me, Peter. And you have always been so protective. So let me protect _you_ for once.”

Peter looked over at Gamora then, who was watching Mantis carefully, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She was still so new to the Celestial siblings’ dynamic, knew far more about Peter than she did about Mantis, and there was still so much left to learn about them both. And yet, for someone who had been raised in such a barbaric, animalistic environment, she did indeed seem far more “sane” than Peter would have ever guessed her to be. He still remembered when she first arrived - practically stomping into the throne room, decked out in full armor, her mere presence demanding to be seen and heard. Her reputation preceded her, making him almost certain his future wife was going to be, at best, cold, calculating, devoid of feeling. And maybe she had started that way, or at least, _appeared_ that way. But now?

“I believe her, Quill,” Gamora murmured quietly, leaning back in her seat. “What she said sounds ominous, but it also sounds true. Your father seems like the kind of man who would coerce his own child into carrying out his immoral deeds. This isn’t Mantis’s choice. This is _his_ doing.” She turned to the other girl. “If we follow through with the plan...will it free you from his secret? Will you tell us everything that he’s done, so we can undo it and make things right?”

“Undoing what we have done will be impossible,” Mantis murmured. “But yes. It will, and _I_ will.”

Gamora nodded sharply, a smirk beginning to form. “Good. Not that we needed another reason to take him out, but I suppose we’ll all sleep better at night, knowing you’ll be okay.”

Mantis smiled brightly in return. “Thank you, Gamora. I am very glad you are on our side. We would be forever stuck in our old ways, if not for your bravery.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Gamora scoffed, though she looked pleased.

“I mean it,” Mantis said firmly, patting Gamora briefly on the arm. It was a testament to Gamora’s newfound comfort that she didn’t immediately pull away. “I was uneasy about the idea at first. And I did not know what to think of you, either. But it is something we must do, not just for us, but for everyone in the entire galaxy. Neither of us would have ever thought to do so, but _you_ did.” Gamora faltered a little, glancing off to the side. Before Peter could ask her about it, Mantis spoke again. “Also, I think Peter is _very_ glad to have you around.”

Peter let out an undignified squawk. “What’re you tryna say?”

“Just that you are friends.” Mantis blinked innocently once more. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Hah,” Peter said weakly. “Right.”

“So are all settled then? No more secrets, no more anger. We let nothing get in the way,” Gamora said, glancing between them.

“Yeah. And sorry that I lost my temper, Mantis,” Peter said gently. “For yellin’, for grabbin’ you...that wasn’t cool. I won’t do it again, I promise. I never wanna hurt you, _ever_.”

“And I am sorry for being so secretive.” Mantis reached across the table to grab Peter’s hands. “I want to tell you absolutely everything, but it is not safe. I should have just said that the first time you asked, instead of pushing you away. I could feel your distress, your anger, your sadness. I like you best when you are happy, Peter.”

“So do I,” he replied quietly.

They smiled at each other, relieved. Gamora couldn’t help but smile herself. “Are we ready to pay the bill?”

“Pay the - Gamora, we haven’t had dessert yet!” Peter exclaimed. Mantis squealed in delight, volunteering to flag down a waiter for the menu.

Sighing, Gamora slouched in her seat, unsure if she had the energy to keep up with their double act for the rest of the night. “ _Here_ we go.”

* * *

Mantis said something kinda weird to me before she left,” Peter said as he and Gamora returned to their hotel room. It was nearing midnight, and he was pleasantly tired, though there was an underlying fuzziness in his brain that he hadn’t quite been able to untangle since Mantis had spoken to him.

“What’s that?” Gamora kicked off her shoes, stretching luxuriously.

“That she thought you were one thing before today, and now she thinks you’re something else entirely.” Peter paused. “Then again, she’s been acting real cryptic all night. Maybe she just drank too much - ”

“She was having _carbonated water_ , I highly doubt that affected her cognition,” Gamora snorted, though she couldn’t help but be curious as well. “Was that it?”

Peter flushed. “Yes,” he said quickly.

“Really?” Gamora deadpanned. “Your face says otherwise.”

Peter crossed the room quickly to stand by his bed, his back to her, heart pounding as he began undoing his tie. _She thinks I like you._ “C’mon, Gamora, Mantis and I might be back on track, but it don’t mean I understand everything she says and does.” _She thinks I wish this was for real._ “She hasn’t been around other people much, so getting to spend time with another girl - _woman_ \- is a good thing. And now she knows you're a friend. That’s probably what she meant.” _She thinks I want you to stay._ “She’s glad you’re here.”

_I think she’s right._

* * *

Peter was sprawled across his bed, staring intently at the high ceiling with long, dangling lights that formed a geometric pattern his brain couldn’t comprehend at eight in the morning (or really, ever). He screwed his eyes shut in frustration. It was the last day of their Xandar trip, before they would have to return to a different kind of reality - one where his father ambled about, lurking like some affable, old-school Bond villain, where _Gamora’s_ father sat comfortably in a stone throne millions of miles away, contemplating destruction like he was deciding what to have for breakfast, and where he and Gamora were friends with a marriage certificate and an expiry date.

“You seem very fascinated with the ceiling. Should I even ask?” His eyes flew open to see a fully-dressed Gamora standing over him, looking mildly amused. “Come on, Quill, we’ll miss the car if you don’t get ready right _now_.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up.” He sat up slowly, watching her as she took a couple steps backward to give him space. “Hey, uh, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For dealing with all that stuff with me and Mantis. And all the other times you’ve, I dunno, helped me out.” Peter smiled at her, something soft, a little crooked, but entirely endearing. Gamora bit her lip to stop herself from smiling back. “Uh, not that it’s your job or anything, but...I’m glad you’re here. For me. With me? You know, like…” He trailed off awkwardly.

She paused before shaking her head and walking away. “ _Now_ who’s being cryptic? Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted half-heartedly at her retreating back.

All things considered, their days at the outreach center were going quite smoothly. Gamora worked in the back with her people, where they carried out odd jobs here and there, chatting amicably. It was busy work, but it was better than the kind of jobs they were usually given. Peter and Mantis were out at the very front of the building, greeting and subsequently charming everyone that walked through the door. It was what they were good at - the sunny smiles, the friendly small talk, things Gamora could only muster on her best day. She couldn’t help but eye the group of young women who swept into the building first thing every morning since they had opened, who insisted on practically swarming Peter, asking if she really existed. It made Gamora itch, though she wasn’t sure why.

“She’s real shy sometimes. Not really a people person,” Peter would say with a wry chuckle. “But she’s great! I’m glad I married her.” Gamora would then feel silly for eavesdropping in the first place, retreating quietly before Peter could notice.

Today, however, was a different story. Nova Prime briefed them on the press’s perception of Gamora, how they had seen so little of her that they were starting to suspect she was as cold as her reputation implied. It resulted in Gamora and Mantis switching places, much to her dismay.

“This can’t be good,” Gamora murmured. She and Peter were stood side-by-side in the lobby, near the reception area. “Quill, these are ex-criminals we’re dealing with. Someone’s going to recognize me from what was likely their worst memory, and it won’t end well.”

“There won’t be _that_ many people. First day was super busy, but now? Nah,” Peter said, waving it off. “Besides, _I’m_ here. I’ll fend ‘em off if you want me to.”

“Yes, because a few training sessions makes you an expert at combat all of a sudden,” Gamora said dryly.

“I mean if they start acting like assholes. They’re not dumb enough to start a fight,” Peter corrected. “And hey, gimme _some_ credit. I’ve been doing pretty awesome lately, you said it yourself!”

“You throwing me on the mat every now and then doesn’t mean you can _actually_ beat me,” she teased, relaxing.

“Give it a few more rounds and I just might,” he grinned, gently nudging her with his shoulder. Gamora smiled back, shaking her head with a soft huff of quiet laughter.

“Hey, Quill! Quit flirtin’ with your wife and help me move these boxes ‘fore everyone gets here!” Yondu hollered from down the hallway.

“I’m not - oh god,” Peter groaned. “I’ll be right back, ignore him - ”

“I always do,” Gamora called as he jogged away.

Once the facility had opened for the day, Gamora found herself keeping her guard up, smiling tightly at everyone who came through. Peter did most of the talking, shaking hands and explaining what the outreach center was for. To her surprise, many of the visitors weren’t ex-convicts, but rather, affluent society members looking to provide donations or sponsorship. “You look confused,” Peter whispered after yet another sweet, older couple dropped by to hand over a stack of blank cheques.

“Sometimes I forget...some people are just inherently good.” Gamora looked at him with a rueful smile. “Maybe these people have ulterior motives, maybe they’re seeking a monument in their name. Or a way to cover their sins. But maybe they just want to help.”

Peter paused. “You projecting a little?”

“Maybe,” Gamora repeated, shaking her head. “It’s things like this that make me wonder if...if going after your father will do more harm than good. This could be your and Mantis’s legacy - well, hers, mostly - and I’m just ruining the potential of it by asking you to help me kill my father.”

“ _Our_ legacy,” Peter corrected, “will be stopping him, once and for all. Don’t mean this place will be going anywhere. Don’t mean _any_ of us have to go anywhere. I really like doing this, this helping people thing. Makes me feel useful. And hey, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You really want me to stay, don’t you?” Gamora said, biting her lip.

“You’re my friend, Gamora.” Peter’s eyes were earnest, sincere. “I like hanging out with my friends. And if I get to do cool stuff with my friends, like kick some ass and help save _lives_? Sounds like a pretty awesome legacy to me.” Before Gamora could respond, the door swung open. A pair of familiar-looking Nova officers marched in, dragging a trio of handcuffed convicts along between them. She inhaled sharply at the sight. _Here we go._

“Your highnesses,” Denarian Saal droned, sounding as bored as ever. “Nova Prime has requested we register these prisoners for the high-level rehabilitation program. We have their biometrics and IDs.”

“Sign in with Bereet,” Peter replied, gesturing behind him towards the Krylorian receptionist. “I’ll go see if any of the counselors are available for consultations, though I think they’re pretty booked right now.”

Gamora watched him rather nervously as he left, now alone with the officers and the snarling prisoners, who were rattling their chains like they were still behind bars. It was a familiar sound, some grotesque melody that she had hoped to never hear again. One of them, a particularly ugly-looking Badoon, growled at her, deep and guttural.

“Princess _Gamora_ ,” he sneered mockingly. “What a joke. Who could look at a monster like you, and call _you_ a princess?”

“Your words will not phase me,” she replied calmly. “So save your voice for your counselor. You will need it.”

“Did you feel like royalty when you tore apart my village, _princess_?” the Sneeper with pointy teeth hissed. “You must have been so _proud_ , driving your sword into the heart of my _child_.” The chains rattled again, this time more threateningly.

“You really are wasting everyone’s time,” Gamora said, plastering a fake smile as one of the donors waved goodbye on their way out of the building. “Officers, are you done yet?”

“Does your husband know you leave death everywhere you walk? He must, since you killed your brother at your own wedding!” the Badoon chuckled gleefully.

It was then that Peter returned, followed by one of the counselors. “They’re ready for ‘em, officers,” he said cheerfully before joining Gamora once more. “What’d I miss?” he asked, completely oblivious.

“Do you share a bed with your wife, Prince Peter?” The last prisoner, a smug-looking Rajak, smirked lecherously.

“That’s - super inappropriate to ask, what the hell,” Peter grimaced. “Have you been dealing with these jerks while I was gone? I shouldn’t’ve left, sorry - ”

“It’s fine, Quill, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Gamora said cooly.

“She doesn’t even call you by your name!” the Rajak hooted. “And here I thought, maybe the little princess found someone as bloodthirsty as she was. But you’re just her pet, aren’t you? Do you roll over and show your belly, your highness? Or maybe you get on your knees instead, I bet she likes _that_ \- ”

“Officers, I don’t think these prisoners are ready for the rehabilitation program,” Peter said loudly, looking to the receptionist’s desk. “Tell Nova Prime to send them back. Maybe we’ll get a counselor over to you instead.”

“One second,” Denarian Saal called back impatiently, clearly uninterested in anything Peter had to say.

“You should know, your highness, that your precious wife takes great pleasure in _everything_ she does,” the Sneeper simpered, yanking especially hard on his chains. “There was a Levian I shared a cell with, back on the Kyln. He told me of the time a mysterious traveler appeared in his town, seeking shelter. The lord of the land took her in, thinking she was a fragile young woman. She seduced him, of course. Made him feel special. She left within the week, and took all of his money and heirlooms with her, but not before killing the mysterious life force that powered their hearts.”

“I - ” Gamora began, but the Badoon interrupted next.

“Did you ever hear of her last mission before she decided to settle down with you?” He smirked. “You must have heard of Ronan the Accuser, your highness. They were on their way to Morag, seeking the Infinity Stone together, but I guess that didn’t mean much to her. She practically tore him apart for looking at her wrong, before Thanos got there and decided to finish the job himself. Though can you blame him? Your wife is quite the looker, your highness, even when she’s drenched in _blood_.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Peter said firmly. His hands were held high, the light glowing rather menacingly from his fingertips. “What, you think telling me that stuff is gonna make me change my mind? Or that talkin’ shit about my wife helps your case? You think it’s gonna make _your_ lives any easier?”

“Quill, it’s not worth it,” Gamora insisted, reaching for him.

“You speak of good deeds while you stand beside the woman who carved the galaxy’s history with her sword,” the Rajak spat. “We’ve all heard tales of the infamous Prince Peter, the powerful, _charismatic_ do-gooder, but from what I can see, he’s either a coward or just _stupid_.”

“Hey!” Gamora barked, stepping in front of Peter. She wasn’t sure when she had drawn her sword, but it now weighed heavy in her hands, ready to strike, and now he was the one attempting to pull her away. “Choose your next words wisely. And keep our names out of your _filthy_ mouth.”

“Well, I - ” With an unceremonious cry, the three prisoners jolted violently before collapsing to the ground, revealing Denarian Dey standing behind them, brandishing his stun baton. Denarian Saal was stood nearby, looking even more unimpressed than usual.

“Sorry about that,” Denarian Dey said cheerfully. “We always thought these guys weren’t really ready yet, but Nova Prime seemed optimistic. Back to the Kyln they go!”

“You guys need to do a better job at screening these dudes,” Peter said, staring down at the unconscious bodies sprawled awkwardly on the floor. “Did you hear all that crap they just said about Gamora?”

“Well, it’s not like they were entirely...wrong,” Denarian Dey coughed awkwardly, looking nervously at Gamora. It was then that she realized he was eyeing her sword, still held high, and she quickly tucked it away. “Um, no offense, your highness.”

“None taken,” she said, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, though her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest like some sick adrenaline rush. “As I said, nothing I haven’t heard before.”

The Nova officers dragged the unconscious prisoners out the door as the receptionist stared on, open-mouthed. Peter stepped closer to Gamora once the doors were shut, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

“I don’t need reassurance after every confrontation, you know,” Gamora said with a wobbly smile. “I’m fine. I can handle it myself.”

“I was thinkin’ you don’t have to,” Peter said, reluctant to let go. “You need someone, you got me.”

“I just...I need a moment. Alone.” Gamora pulled herself out of his grasp, though not unkindly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter nodded sharply. “Uh, there’s a storage room back there that’s basically empty, so no one’s gonna barge in. I’ll come find you later?”

“Okay,” she repeated. She felt like she was operating on autopilot, her mind overwhelmed with all the images, the absolutely _awful_ images that had come flooding back to her. The smell of blood was more familiar to her than the smell of flowers, the feeling of a weapon in her hands more comforting than the touch of another person. She wanted that to change - no, _needed_ it to change.

Gamora looked up at Peter, wondering what _he_ was thinking. What had he pictured in his mind when he first heard of her? Did he think she took pleasure in what she did? Did he know how far she had gone, how far _gone_ she was? All she could see in his face was concern, not of her, but _for_ her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I’ll cover for you if Nova Prime asks,” Peter added. “Though I think once she hears the story, she’ll probably apologize to you. Again.”

“She had hope,” Gamora shrugged. “She thought they were ready, and they weren’t. They were just as hungry and reckless as before.”

Peter looked at her consideringly. “You’re projecting again,” he said, though not accusingly. “You sure you wanna be alone with your thoughts?”

“Up until recently, they were all I had.” She took another step back, giving him a tight smile. “See you later, Quill.”

* * *

Hey.” Peter entered the storage room once Gamora had allowed him in, silently closing the door behind him. “Denarian Dey says they don’t have anyone else comin’ in, so you’re good to go back out whenever. Or, y’know, never. If you wanna just sit here.”

Gamora was sat, curled into herself, on the floor of the room, the fluorescent light only further emphasizing the exhaustion in her eyes. She looked... _sad_. Angry, hurt, even guilty, Peter thought he had seen it all on her before, but not like this. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“You want me to leave?” Peter asked. Wordlessly, Gamora shook her head. Peter approached her slowly as if she were akin to a spooked animal before sitting down across from her, legs folded beneath him. “That stuff they said about you - ”

“It’s all true,” Gamora interrupted. “And it’s like I told Nova Prime - having my record wiped doesn’t make me any less of a criminal. Marrying you doesn’t make me any less of a coward. I lost control again. I almost killed someone, and for what, for taunting me? For trying to get to you? Thanos was right. I am _weak_.”

“No, _you_ are the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Peter insisted. “You came up with this plan all on your own because you couldn’t _stand_ the idea of watching anyone else die. You betrayed Thanos by coming to me with your own agenda. You taught me about stuff I didn’t know I had in me, and you _saved_ my life. That don’t sound weak to me.”

“A stronger person would have confronted Thanos from the beginning,” Gamora replied. “A stronger person would have accepted death, instead of being the cause of everyone else’s.”

“You were a _kid_ ,” Peter exclaimed. “You were scared, and alone. You had to fight for yourself. C’mon, Gamora. You wanna be a good person?”

“Yes, but - ”

“Then you start by giving a shit.” Peter said it so bluntly that Gamora couldn’t help but choke out a laugh. “I’m serious! And you’ve already done that by showin’ up here and tellin’ me you want to stop Thanos from destroying the galaxy. So don’t give up. I haven’t seen you do it yet, and I don’t think you’re about to start.”

Continuing to chuckle softly, Gamora unfurled her arms from around her knees, stretching out her legs until they brushed against Peter’s. He shivered a little at her touch. “Survival is what I’m best at,” she said. “And I’ll make sure to keep everyone safe, too. That’ll be my job.”

“There you go,” Peter grinned. “And Gamora...all those things you’ve done...you’re just tryna make them right. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“I guess I won’t know until it’s done.” Gamora stood slowly, brushing the dust off her pants. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss being on Ego. Xandar feels like a place I could never survive in.”

“Survive?”

“I meant live,” Gamora corrected, though even she didn’t look so sure. She paused. “Maybe there is no home for me after all. I could just be a wanderer after this. Float among the stars.”

“As weirdly poetic - and _morbid_ \- as that sounds, my offer is still on the table, if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Peter said half-jokingly, also getting to his feet.

“If I left the moment I was getting sick of you, I would have been gone within the first ten minutes,” Gamora said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll consider it. Ask me again after our fathers are dead.”

“Now _there’s_ a sentence,” Peter whistled. “I’ll go grab Yondu and let ‘im know. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Not sure why I said I'd be posting this in the first two weeks of March when I knew very well that I had midterms, but I hope you enjoyed this (both late and short-er) chapter! Next chapter will be late April, as I have a non-AU Peter/Gamora oneshot that I'm hopefully posting on my birthday (second week of April) and I've got finals in mid-April.
> 
> The song Peter was listening to in Gamora's room is [Everybody Plays The Fool](https://open.spotify.com/track/3DkqEHCCqlkknDfksHWWu0?si=N-7jCs3-QICQI65mdp1lAQ) by The Main Ingredient. You can also read this fic on [tumblr](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/171946024094/everybody-wants-to-rule-the-world-58) if you like! I've also been getting requests for chapter previews lately, so feel free to do so by sending me an ask (though not right away, I just _barely_ started writing chapter six, haha).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I'll see y'all in the next one!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There's a room where the light won't find you...holding hands while the walls come tumbling down..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warning for violence against children near the end of the chapter, and just some general creepiness from both Ego and Thanos throughout.

“You wanna go for a ride on my ship?”

“Is that supposed to be a euphemism? Because I’m telling you right now, Quill, you aren’t going to get _anywhere_ with _anyone_ with that.”

Peter blinked rapidly. He could practically feel his brain physically recovering from the images Gamora had suddenly planted in his head, especially with her sprawled across her bed in such a casual manner. “N - no, definitely not what I meant. I just, I thought since we don’t have anything to do today, and we already did some training this morning - thanks for the giant bruise, by the way, that’s gonna look _awesome_ \- we could go hang out somewhere else, away from Dad.”

Another month had come and gone since their trip to Xandar, another month in which they seemed no closer to their goal, and yet so achingly close at the same time. Peter and Gamora had taken to carrying out their royal duties off-planet on a semi-regular basis, traveling with the others, or even sometimes completely alone (well, aside from Yondu. They had to at least _pretend_ they needed security). The Nova Corps had come to see them as something of a formidable pair, inviting them to speak at galaxy-wide conferences or sit in on meetings that discussed the wars and corruption raging on in the far reaches of space that required outside intervention.

Peter, for the most part, was the more charismatic of the two, convincing the intergalactic councils that they were worthy of attention in the first place. Once they made it in, he was perfectly content to let Gamora prove herself the fine strategist that she was, using her previous knowledge of the galaxy’s evils to help them make plans and utilize resources. With Peter’s speeches and Nova Prime’s stamp of approval, the usually-snobbish officials listened to Gamora as if she were one of them all along, and very rarely mentioned her past, if at all.

Right now, however, they were experiencing long stretches of boredom, waiting for the inevitable message from Thanos, in which he would finally announce his intent to attack. He spoke to Gamora less and less these days, seemingly _too_ trusting of her supposed loyalty to him. He never addressed Nebula and seemed to have forgotten about Drax, Rocket, and Groot entirely. As much as everyone wanted to get it over with, they weren’t sure if they were ready to let go of each other quite yet.

“You had something in mind,” Gamora commented. “What is it?”

“I wanna show you one of my favorite places on this entire planet,” Peter smiled. “I want you to meet my mother.”

The Milano touched down on the surface of the planet thirty minutes later, in an isolated spot not too far from the palace. Once they stepped outside, Gamora noticed there were no access roads in sight, leaving her wondering what was even here in the first place. The area resembled the manicured lawns of the palace gardens, full of lush, flowering bushes, and towering foliage and trees, but it was far more overgrown. Thirty-foot golden columns lined the stone pathways, covered with winding vines, leading them to - oh, _that_ was what Peter had meant - another statue, this one unmistakably that of Meredith Quill.

Gamora walked towards it slowly, carefully, as if she were approaching a precious deity - in Peter and Ego’s mind, perhaps it was. Meredith was incredibly beautiful, with thick blonde curls and a bright smile, donning a colorful sundress and carrying a basket of flowers. There was something very youthful, _eternal_ , almost, in the way she had been captured. Innocent, free-spirited, even a little mischievous. Gamora could see where Peter got his laughter from. She turned to look at Peter, who seemed to be nervously anticipating her reaction. “So, what do you think?”

“She seems very lovely,” Gamora said finally. She wasn’t sure what to say, really, that wouldn’t be like everything else Peter had heard about his mother throughout his entire life. “Your stories of her...I can picture them so clearly in my mind. The music, the baking, the stargazing…”

“Yeah, I don’t always talk about it, but...I think about her every day.” Peter strolled towards Gamora, coming to a stop by her side. “Not for long, of course. Maybe just a few seconds, when I’m listenin’ to a song and I remember when she first taught me the lyrics. Or when Dad brings her up, which is a _lot_ , especially when he’s mad - _or_ sad - and then we both feel real weird after.”

“Weird?”

“It’s like he knew her ‘before’, and I knew her ‘after’. And we both wonder if she was different, or exactly the same. Which sides of her were more real.” He shook his head. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud. Like my birth was some life-changing event - ”

“It was to her,” Gamora insisted. “She clearly loved you. It was probably the best day of her life, Quill.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she didn’t get to live the rest of it.” Peter’s hands curled into tight fists, though as far as Gamora could tell, there was no Celestial light, only anger. “Sometimes I wonder what life woulda been like if she hadn’t gotten sick. What other milestones or ‘best days’ she missed out on. Or the things that _I_ did that she never got to see, people in my life she never got to meet.” He looked at her, his hands relaxing somewhat. “Mom would’ve liked you.”

“I doubt it. People don’t exactly like me,” Gamora scoffed.

“I like you.” Peter paused. “I mean - well, y’know what I mean. Anyways, you’re both headstrong. You don’t take crap from other people. Mom might’ve been more... _relaxed_ than you, but I think you would’ve gotten along real well.”

Gamora’s eyes remained fixed on the statue, on the face of a woman who never got to be much older than Gamora was now. She wondered if immortalizing Meredith meant idealizing her, if she was truly as incredible as Peter and Ego made her out to be. It was a terribly negative thought to have, but Gamora just couldn’t imagine worshipping someone who, at the end of the day, was just one person. Would Meredith have liked to be remembered so perfectly? Or would she have resented her lover and her son for overlooking her flaws?

Wisely, Gamora decided against mentioning her train of thought. “I’m surprised this statue isn’t at the palace.”

“Apparently it used to be until Dad moved it away when he heard Yondu was bringing me home,” Peter replied. “Then he put up that big ol’ fountain in the gardens instead. It’s real gaudy-looking, but more appropriate for a crowd, I guess. Shows off his family.”

“I think people would understand if your mother was included in it, too. She was important to both of you,” she frowned.

“There’s a lot of people out there like you, Gamora.” At her confused expression, he added, “Not into sentiment.”

Gamora felt her stomach turn as she remembered what she had said to Peter nearly three months ago, when they had their first true fight, and nearly betrayed each other because of it. They had practically threatened to kill each other then, and now she was slowly forgetting what it was like to spend a day without him. “It has its value,” she admitted quietly.

Peter merely smiled at her confession, reaching for her hand. She accepted it without thinking, allowing him to lead her right up to the statue, surrounded by a thick bed of white and crimson flowers. Carefully, he brought them to a sitting position among the flowers, their backs leaning against the statue’s base, before fully laying down, staring up into the golden sky. Gamora followed suit, somewhat reluctantly letting go of his hand as she did. They were pressed up against each other, shoulder-to-shoulder, the curve of her hip brushing against his torso. She shivered, keeping her eyes fixed upward before she got the urge to do something irrational.

They laid there in silence for a full minute, allowing the gentle whistle of wind to carry through the air uninterrupted, the soft rustle of the leaves singing a natural song. Gamora’s nose was filled with the scent of the blossoms below, fresh and sweet. It was calming, almost therapeutic, and yet, she couldn’t help but be a little nervous. _Why are we here?_ she thought.

“Hesperantha coccinea,” Peter said suddenly, as if to answer her question, yet it didn’t answer anything at all. “The river lily.”

“You memorized its scientific name?”

He chuckled. “It was my mom’s favorite. Well, that’s what Dad said, anyways. I looked it up the first week I was here. I felt like I was already forgetting stuff about her already, and I needed somethin’ to hold onto. So I asked Dad what _he_ remembered about her, and it was one of the first things he told me about. Mom was his river lily.” When Gamora didn’t respond, only nodded in silence as she absorbed his words, Peter unhooked his Walkman from his belt. He pressed play before setting it down just above their heads.

_You sheltered me from harm...kept me warm, kept me warm..._

“Do you believe him?” Gamora asked. “The things he says about your mother, his declaration of love for her. You think he’s telling the truth?”

_You gave my life to me...set me free, set me free..._

“I could be wrong, but I feel like she’s the one thing he’d never lie to me about,” Peter replied. “But hey, I didn’t bring us here to talk about him.”

_The finest years I ever knew...were all the years I had with you..._

“Then what are we here for? I mean, I know we were here to see your mother, but...was there something else you had in mind?”

_And I would give anything I own...I'd give up my life, my heart, my home..._

Peter’s eyes remained firmly upwards, though he seemed a little twitchy. “Well, we’ve been working pretty hard these past few weeks. Going over plans, making contacts, all that space travel...I just wanted to spend some time with you. Just, have a moment where we can relax and not think about all that crap. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad people are starting to trust you and all, and we’ve actually been doing some _real_ work for people that need us, but...sometimes I just wanna lie down and listen to music and clear my head, and it seemed more fun if I brought you along.” He turned to look at her, oddly nervous. “That...that’s okay, right?”

_I would give everything I own...just to have you back again..._

“Yes,” Gamora said simply, a smile beginning to grow. “You’re right, we could really use the break. And no one seems better at emptying their thoughts than you.”

“Hey,” Peter laughed. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult. Knowing you, it’s a bit of both.”

“Knowing me,” she echoed. “I guess you sort of...do now, don’t you?”

“Still learning a little more every day,” he replied quietly. She finally turned her head to look at him, inquisitive, but he chose not to elaborate, instead grinning at her before bringing his hands up to his mouth, cupping them as if they were cold. His hands glowed briefly with the light before he blew into the space between them.

Gamora watched in awe as large, multi-colored bubbles blossomed out of his hands, swirling about in the air above them. Almost instinctively, she reached up, her fingernail grazing the closest one. It popped instantly, splitting into several smaller bubbles that carried on with the wind.

Peter continued to blow bubbles - bubbles with odd patterns, bubbles that housed small flowers inside, bubbles large and small and perfectly spherical and charmingly misshapen. Gamora couldn’t help but laugh at the sight - she imagined they looked ridiculous from a distance, lying in a flower bed, playing with bubbles like schoolchildren - but there was something utterly pure about it, something untouched. It was different from Peter’s other displays of his Celestial abilities so far: the dagger from their first meeting, her engagement ring, her constellation hairpin. The others were for everyone else to see. The bubbles, on the other hand, were just for them.

“Is it working?” Peter asked a few minutes later. He was chuckling as well, surprised to see Gamora’s shoulders were practically trembling with the force of her own giggles. The sound was almost euphoric. “You feeling better?”

“It’s like that argument with Senator Ponarian during yesterday’s conference call never happened,” Gamora said, her laughter subsiding, though her hand was draped over her mouth to hide her mirth, the other arm still held high in the air as if she wanted to prod at the last of the bubbles. “Thank you, Peter.”

He shivered involuntarily at the sound of his name in her mouth - she had never said it without it accompanying his last name - and it felt intimate in a way. First names were usually mundane, repeated thousands of times over the course of a person’s life, and yet it was almost comforting to hear it in _her_ voice, like it was brand new, a word only reserved for her.

Peter’s heart thundered in his chest. He lowered his hands, though the last of the bubbles continued on, casting a stained-glass light effect across Gamora’s face. It emphasized the sharpness of her cheekbones, the warmth in her dark eyes, every individual eyelash, every curve of her mouth. His breath hitched a little as he turned fully onto his side so he could face her, slowly reaching to rest one of his hands on the side of her hip. Gamora blinked in surprise, but leaned into the touch, her smile growing as his fingers spread across the span of her belly, his thumb just barely brushing her hipbone. With a soft exhale, her hands came up to his shoulders, gripping firmly as she rolled into him.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. Peter leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed. He watched as Gamora did the same, tipping her chin upwards to meet him, and -

“ _QUILL!_ I’ve been callin’ your damn communicator for ten minutes, boy, why ain’t you picking up?”

They leaped apart, Gamora letting out a mild shout of surprise while Peter practically tumbled right off her, face-planting into the flowers beneath him. “Dammit, Yondu,” he muttered under his breath as he got to his feet, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “What is it?”

“Got a message for the princess,” Yondu said grimly, strolling towards them in a manner that lacked his usual swagger. If he had seen anything, he didn’t seem too inclined to point it out. “From that Black Order you mentioned a while ago?”

Gamora’s blood ran cold. “Peter. Take us back, _now_.”

* * *

“Is it a threat?” Gamora didn’t answer, staring unblinkingly at the video message that had been transmitted to the computer in Ego’s study less than an hour ago. “Gamora. I’m talking to _you_ , sweetheart. Tell me, is it a threat or not?”

“Hey, c’mon Dad, relax.” Peter stepped in front of Gamora neatly before Ego could get any closer. Ego narrowed his eyes at his son briefly before looking over Peter’s shoulder at Gamora again. “It didn’t sound like much of anything. They just wanna keep an eye on her, I guess.”

Gamora scoffed. “Yes, because my safety has _always_ been their primary concern.” She finally tore her eyes away from the screen to look at Ego, who seemed wholly unamused by her sarcasm. “But no, your majesty, it isn’t meant to be a threat. I think my father is just implying that he intends to visit us someday.”

“After all this time? Come on now, you’ve been here for three months!” Ego exclaimed. “Sure, he’s a busy man, but what makes him so interested _now_?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Gamora replied evenly. “I speak to him very rarely. We don’t exactly have much to talk about.”

Ego rounded on Mantis next, startling her. “Mantis! Is she telling the truth?” Gamora’s lip curled in distaste, while Peter let out a frustrated groan.

“Princess Gamora does not lie, Father,” Mantis answered, tilting her head consideringly. “I would not question her.”

Ego growled under his breath, turning away from the others with a dramatic sweep of his cape, running his fingers through his hair, before turning back. “Gamora, you better tell your father I don’t appreciate him trying to weasel his way in here. If he thinks he can just mobilize his own forces here for _your_ safety, he’s got another thing coming!”

“I agree, your majesty,” Gamora said placidly. “I clearly need no protection. I have myself, and all the extra protection I could ever need.” Drax, Rocket, and Groot looked pleased by this. “I’ll pass your message along. I...apologize, if the message inconvenienced you.”

“Inconvenienced me, no. Pissed me off? Well, a little, I’ll say,” Ego sighed, shaking his head. “Alright then, Gamora. Run along now.”

Gamora nodded sharply, finally getting up from the desk chair. “Peter? Will you join me?”

Everyone’s heads suddenly swiveled to look at him in a rather comical manner. Peter, meanwhile, looked like a startled animal. “Uh...yeah, yeah sure.” They could feel Ego’s gaze on the back of their heads as they left the study. Gamora shivered a little at the thought.

Once they were in the corridor and away from prying eyes and ears, Gamora spoke again. “Thanos has yet to see you. If we talk to him together, or at the very least, if you’re present when I’m speaking to him, it should convince him that I’ve done as he’s asked and that he can finally make his move. Every single day that passes without his interference is another day that he might be out _there_ , killing someone else.”

“Agreed,” Peter nodded. “Though talking to your dad? Not looking forward to it.”

“He can’t hurt you from here,” Gamora replied gently. “Besides, _I’ll_ do all the talking. You just...sit and be quiet.”

“Sure, because I’m great at that,” Peter grinned. Gamora huffed softly, finding she couldn’t help but smile in return.

* * *

 “You are requesting Thanos’s attention? How important do you think you are, girl?” the Other spat. Peter recoiled as if his saliva had traveled through the screen - it certainly felt like it had. “And who is this plebeian with you?”

“My husband,” Gamora said, scowling. “I have a message for Father from Ego, and I thought he might like to meet Ego’s son.”

Peter and Gamora were now sat on Gamora’s bed, her communicator propped up on its footboard. It had become so commonplace for them to spend time in her room that Gamora hadn’t thought twice about bringing them here, though Peter’s study would have been the better choice. Peter seemed to be sitting a bit closer to her than he had previously done, his hand on the other side of her hip, very nearly grazing her lower back.

For a moment, her mind wandered back to the gardens, where Peter had created bubbles just for her, where he had touched her so intimately that she had forgotten all rational thought, where he had come so _close_ to kissing her that she could remember the sensation of his nose pressed into her cheek, his breath ghosting her skin. She felt her cheeks grow warmer at the memory, but she was also somewhat torn. Did she actually _want_ to kiss him, or was she leaning in because it felt like the right thing to do? It wasn’t like she had much experience with this sort of thing, or really, _any_ experience at all. Who was to say she had any sort of non-platonic feelings for Peter when it could just be proximity, _convenience_ , even?

“Gamora,” Peter murmured. “You’re kinda spacin’ out again. You okay?”

“Just a bit distracted. Talking to Thanos is never pleasant,” she replied, pushing her hair out of her face. The Other had disappeared momentarily to fetch Thanos, leaving them both alone with their thoughts. Peter seemed to be staring at her intently, his eyes having never left her face since they had sat down. “What?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare,” Peter mumbled, finally tearing his eyes away. “Um, not that we should talk about it right now or anything, but earlier...that was really nice.”

Gamora felt warm again, this time all over. “It was...something,” she agreed, biting her lip. “And I’m glad I got to meet your mother.”

He lifted his head, a wide grin plastered across his face. “Good. Good, good.” He blinked as if he just realized he repeated himself again, and Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression. _You’re so strange, Peter Quill_ , she thought. _Maybe I did want to kiss you, after all._

“Gamora.” They both jumped at the sound of Thanos’s voice, both authoritative and utterly bored at the same time. “I hear you got my message.”

“I did,” Gamora said, clearing her throat. “Father, I’m asking you to reconsider. I understand your intentions, but Ego sees it as a threat, and - ”

“Who is that beside you?” Thanos interrupted.

“My...husband, Father.” Gamora patted Peter awkwardly on the cheek. He let out a tiny grunt of protest when she accidentally scratched him with her fingernail. “He is...very enamored with me, as you can see. As you were hoping for.” Peter smiled tightly, leaning into her so there was no space left between them. He wasn’t sure he had ever pictured meeting his significant other’s father as being this terrifying.

“Do you spend much time with your father, boy?” Thanos asked, eyeing Peter intently. “Has he taught you true mastery of the Celestial power?”

“I spend most of my time with your daughter nowadays, uh...sir,” Peter said carefully. “But yes and no. Dad’s taught me a lot about my Celestial abilities, though it takes millions of years to truly master. I’m only - well, I’m only twenty.”

“Twenty thousand years old?” Thanos frowned, leaning a little closer.

“No, twenty, like...twenty.” Peter coughed. Thanos looked unimpressed.

“And your father feels my message was a threat,” Thanos continued. “Does he always feel so easily perturbed?”

“It was just unexpected, Father - ” Gamora began, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way Thanos was glaring at Peter.

“I was talking to the boy, Gamora. Watch yourself,” Thanos snapped. Peter’s grip on Gamora’s waist tightened instinctively, squeezing her in reassurance.

“Nothing really phases him, but I think you just caught him off-guard,” Peter said firmly. “I promise, Gamora’s safety is in good hands - her own. You really don’t need to send extra soldiers - ”

“Is that what you told yourself when you dragged her to the Nova Corps, _boy_?” Thanos boomed. “Is that what you thought when you paraded her in front of the cameras like some common whore?”

“All necessary to placate my dad,” Peter said, glancing at Gamora nervously. He was doing surprisingly well, considering Thanos hadn’t threatened to have him killed yet, but she wished she had prepared him beforehand - why had she been so sure Thanos was going to ignore him? _Stupid_ , she thought. _You’re losing your touch, Gamora. You’re better than this._ “He always had this fantasy of me getting married. Seeing us being presented in the media as some ideal power couple makes him happy. When he’s happy, things run smoothly, simple as that. Besides, I wouldn’t risk Gamora’s life like that. She’s not in danger or anything around the Nova Corps, they respect her now. They trust her, they _listen_ to her.”

Thanos straightened up, suddenly intrigued. It was only then that Peter realized what he had just admitted to. “You mean to say the intergalactic councils have come to obey my daughter?” He let out an unsettling laugh. “Gamora, you’ve impressed me. You’ve done far more than I’ve asked of you.”

“Father, you misunderstand - ”

“And you are devoted to my daughter, yes?”

“I - yes, sir,” Peter coughed.

“If your father ever tried to hurt Gamora...you would choose her life over his.” It wasn’t a question. “Promise me that, boy. Or you’ll regret that I ever sent her to you in the first place.”

“I promise,” Peter swore, bowing his head slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like it would please Thanos. “I...would choose her life over mine.” He could feel Gamora squirm uncomfortably beside him, but Thanos nodded approvingly, a smirk beginning to form.

“Good,” Thanos said, leaning back. “Gamora, we’ll speak another day about your influence with the Nova Corps. I will hold off on sending the Chitauri for you...for now. Ego will come to truly understand our power in time.”

“Yes, Father,” Gamora said resignedly. It seemed like she wouldn’t be able to get another word in. Thanos vanished abruptly from the screen, leaving Peter to practically collapse into an anxious heap of nerves beside her. “Peter - ”

“Shit, Gamora, that - I’m so freakin’ sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned the stupid Nova Corps, and - _ugh_.” Peter groaned into his hands. He was basically in the fetal position at this point. “Crap, that’s really gonna screw everything up now. We’re gonna have to play the waiting game _forever_ , he’s gonna just get you to order the damn space cops around while he sits all comfy in his stupid chair - ”

“Peter,” she repeated, reaching to pull his hands away from his face. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but all things considered - you could have done a lot worse.”

“Your lack of confidence in me hurts,” Peter sighed dramatically. He flopped against the headboard rather forcefully and promptly slammed his head into the wall. “ _Ow._ ”

“Oh, Peter,” Gamora sighed, shaking her head in mild amusement. “Listen to me. I’m not angry. Being scrutinized by Thanos is something no person should ever have to go through, and you handled it well. The main goal of our conversation was to stop him from sending the Chitauri and risking the lives of your people, and we did that. And the Nova Corps - I almost brought it up myself. It was only when _you_ said it that I realized what it would mean to him.”

“But now we gotta come up with something new,” he grumbled, rubbing his scalp. “All that work you did for nothing.”

“No, not for nothing. We can salvage some of it, and now we have more time,” she said firmly.

Peter blinked. “So...you’re... _not_ mad at me?” he said slowly.

“Just because I have a bit of a _temper_ \- ” Gamora snapped, then paused at her own words. “Fine, you have a point. But I’m done fighting with you. And fighting with myself. I’ve done too much of both. And I don’t... _want_ to be angry anymore. I just want to do what’s right.”

He smiled softly at her, reaching to squeeze her shoulder. “That’s a good one. You should write that down.” Gamora groaned, somewhat reluctantly pulling away from his grasp to climb off the bed.

“We may have more time, but that doesn’t mean we can waste it. Come on, we have to tell the others. Tell Kraglin to open up the armory and meet us there,” she ordered, only giving him enough time to briefly nod before she sprinted out the door. Peter watched her go, wondering if it was inappropriate to be hopeful that they would get a chance to talk about what happened earlier. _Priorities, dude_ , he chastised himself as he got to his feet. _We’ve got time._

* * *

“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you, Quill?” Nebula taunted, shaking her head derisively. “Now Father knows all about Gamora’s new ‘job’. Fantastic.” The entire group had gathered in the secret storage room in the armory, where they were currently stashing all of the Titans’ weapons. Kraglin idled awkwardly by the door, nervously watching the others without saying anything.

“To be fair, I almost mentioned it myself,” Gamora frowned, nudging her sister with her elbow. “Part of me thought it would spur Thanos into coming here sooner, but if anything, it’s made him more comfortable with letting me do all the work, so long as I keep ‘manipulating’ Peter and using his influence to gain my own.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I wasn’t gonna ask earlier ‘cause I thought it was just a fluke, but since when d’you call him ‘Peter’?” Rocket exclaimed.

Gamora flushed. “That’s not important, Rocket. What’s _important_ is that we need to rethink our strategy. Maybe we need to take them on one at a time, instead of attempting both at once.”

“Yeah, and how we gonna do that?” Yondu snorted.

“Evidence,” Gamora suggested. “We start with evidence of Ego’s wrongdoing and use it to convince your people to get off this planet instead of our original idea. Motivating people by fear...it’s not the most moral of ways, but it’s the quickest. Yondu, have you ever recorded any footage or taken photos of Ego punishing Peter or Mantis?” The Celestial siblings shivered as they recalled some of their worst memories.

“You think any of us wanna relive that crap?” Yondu barked. “You gotta be kiddin’ me, girl.”

“Hey, Yondu, it’s just a question,” Peter interjected. “Back off.”

Yondu scowled at Peter briefly before turning back to Gamora. “No, I don’t got anything of the sort. But I bet Quill would be happy t’ bend over backwards to make sure that happens for ya.” Rocket snickered into his paw.

“Yondu!” Peter exclaimed.

“Oh, like she can’t tell,” Yondu huffed, folding his arms across his chest. He looked a little too pleased with himself. “Your wife’s a damn sight smarter than all of us combined. Besides, you’ve always been a softie, boy, especially for lost causes.”

“I am _not_ a lost cause. _I_ am trying to do better,” Gamora snapped, crossing the room to jab a finger in Yondu’s chest. “Can you say the same for yourself? _You_ brought Peter here, after all.” Yondu snarled, reaching for his arrow.

“Hey, hey!” Peter yelled. He reached for both of them, his hands glowing threateningly, pushing their shoulders apart. “Guys, we’re not gonna get anywhere like this, come on. You’ve both got a point, okay? But Gamora, if you want evidence...you’re asking us to make Dad angry on purpose. And you haven’t seen him _really_ angry yet. It’d be...we’d be risking our lives.”

“We already are,” Gamora said quietly, taking a few measured steps back. “But I understand. We don’t have to resort to that. We can always - ”

“I will do it.” Everyone turned in disbelief to look at Mantis, who had been completely silent the whole time. “Father may trust me more and more nowadays, but that does not mean he will never punish me again. I can think of something. You just have to be ready to capture the moment when it comes.”

“What? No!” Peter looked aghast. “There’s _no_ way we’re lettin’ him hurt you.”

“It will not be anything too extreme,” Mantis protested. “He punishes me more often than he does you, so it will be easier. It will just be like any other time.”

“Yeah, and all the other times, you were in pain for _days_ ,” Peter snapped. “You’re not doing this, Mantis. End of discussion.”

“Discussion? You keep speaking _for_ me,” Mantis retorted. “Will you ever let me choose for myself? Or are you going to be just like Father?”

Peter froze, stunned. The entire room fell silent. He stared at her in unblinking disbelief before promptly turning and storming out of the armory without another word. Mantis let out an agitated sound before running after him, Yondu and Kraglin following closely behind.

“What kinda messed up family shit have you dragged us into, Gamora?” Rocket groaned, dragging his paws across his face. “When you said you wanted to take out a couple of bad guys by comin’ here, includin’ the big purple dude himself, I didn’t think we’d have to deal with _this_ crap.”

Gamora tore her eyes away from the door. It wasn’t like staring at it was going to bring Peter back, and this was between him and Mantis. There was nothing she could do, not now, at least. “They’re letting things get personal,” she said cooly, though she couldn’t help but hesitate. “This is what happens when people get too attached.”

“Oh _please_ ,” Nebula snorted. “Like you aren’t overly fond of your _husband_.” Unperturbed by Gamora’s glare, she added, “You spend more time with him than you do with us sometimes. You may pretend it’s all an act to appease his father, but we all know it isn’t true.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed mildly.

“You do not get to tell me how I feel,” Gamora hissed.

“I don’t have to tell you,” Nebula smirked. “It’s obvious.”

“You do seem very fond of Quill,” Drax piped up, also ignoring the glare now directed at him. “You speak of him often, and very kindly. It is not a bad thing, Gamora. There is no shame in your feelings, though I personally find him rather irksome.”

“I spend time with him and talk about him because we have to work together,” Gamora insisted. “Don’t get confused.”

“I never get confused,” Drax said, offended. “And Gamora, while I’m being completely honest, I do not approve of your suggestion from earlier. How is putting our allies’ lives at risk any better than our original plan? Especially Mantis.” He looked saddened, an expression that the others so rarely ever saw on a typically aggressive, boisterous Drax. “She has no fighting skills, unlike Quill. She is practically still a child. She would be defenseless against Ego. ”

“I’ve already said I didn’t want to carry through with that anymore - ”

“Because _Peter_ said so,” Rocket simpered, fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly. Groot snickered.

“Because he was _right_ ,” Gamora frowned. “There are other ways to push Thanos. There has to be.”

“Since when were you an optimist?” Nebula drawled.

Gamora glanced around the room at her people. They were right in some ways - she hadn’t been around them as much as she usually was, having admittedly grown closer to Peter than she would have ever anticipated. But maybe they weren’t just her friends. They were her family. “Since I realized...that being angry isn’t the answer anymore. It can’t be. What we need is the confidence that we can do this. And preparation, lots of it. Which is why we need to be on the same page.” She glanced at the door, which still hadn’t budged. It seemed like the Celestials weren’t coming back. “We can’t afford to argue like they did and let our emotions get in the way. And we can’t risk lives, either. No single life is more important than anyone else’s here, do you understand?” To her surprise, they nodded solemnly in agreement. “So instead of wasting your time speculating about _my_ personal feelings and motivations, how about you make yourselves useful and start coming up with a new plan?”

She swept out of the room without a second glance, muttering to herself about finding Peter. Drax, Nebula, and Rocket exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“So...we agree Gamora’s got a thing for Quill, right?”

“I am Groot,” Groot nodded sagely.

* * *

Gamora found Peter a few minutes later, exactly where she expected him to be. He was sat on the edge of the fountain in the palace gardens, talking in hushed, urgent tones with Mantis, Yondu watching on from the doorway, looking unusually pensive. Gamora stood beside him in silence, waiting. Eventually, Mantis let out an annoyed groan before walking away, pausing when she saw Gamora.

“Maybe _you_ can convince him,” she said dejectedly. “I do not want to resort to using my powers on Peter.”

“I already told you, I changed my mind. We aren’t risking you, Mantis,” Gamora said firmly. “Besides, he won’t listen to me. Peter is as stubborn as I am.”

“You would be surprised how much he defers to you these days,” Mantis said, smiling tightly before walking back into the palace, Yondu at her heels. Gamora’s frown only deepened as she went to join Peter, watching as he threw a small ball of light back and forth between his hands, his eyes following its path.

“Mantis tell you to convince me to let her do it?” Peter looked up at her, the ball of light evaporating instantly. His eyes were clear of the cosmos, but still very nearly fogged over with something else. “I really screwed up this time, Gamora. It could’ve been so easy if I just kept my damn mouth shut.”

“None of this has been easy. And if you think it has been, then clearly, I haven’t been giving you enough to do.” Gamora sat across from him, bringing her feet up underneath her. She twisted her wedding ring idly back and forth around her finger. “Provoking Ego was a bad idea. I have no interest in unnecessarily risking any of our lives. But there has to be something we can do to push forward, or it will never be done.”

“There isn’t. We’re stuck. I’ve gotten us stuck in a damn hole, with no way out.” Peter groaned, hanging his head. “And your dad, he’s gonna send a bunch of the - whatchamacallit?”

“The Chitauri,” she nodded.

“Yeah, that. He’s gonna send a bunch of Chitauri, pretendin’ they’re here to ‘protect you’, and he’ll order ‘em to open fire on the planet whenever he feels like it. We won’t be able to do a damn thing.”

“Focus, Peter. We can catastrophize this, or we can make things right,” Gamora said urgently, reaching for him. “Whatever idea comes to mind first, no matter how silly it sounds.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Gamora.” He abruptly pulled himself away from her grasp, shuffling a few feet backward. “I told you from the start, I don’t got the brains or the know-how to do this kind of stuff. I’m just a guy who lucked out in life by being the son of a Celestial. He gave me my powers, my title, my reputation. None of this, nothing about me, is _mine_.”

Gamora stared at him, astonished. “Your father isn’t responsible for your personality, or your values, or your choices. That’s all on you, Peter.” She stood. “I’ve told myself my whole life that the things I’ve done are because of what Thanos has done to me. But sometimes I need to take responsibility for my own actions, too. That’s why I came here in the first place. So do you want to remain here, an honorless prince who feels that he’s never earned his place, or do you want to be the one who comes up with an idea that will save the galaxy?”

“The second one sounds pretty nice,” Peter admitted. “Though I’d like it better if we got to do that together.”

Gamora smiled slightly, sitting back down. “That’s more like it. So, think.”

Peter nodded almost absent-mindedly, glancing around the garden as he thought, before his eyes landed on a stretch of grass, not too far from where they were sitting. “Remember the first time we were here? We challenged each other to a physical fight, and I totally won - ”

“Not exactly how I remembered it, but go on.”

“ - then Dad showed up, and he acted kinda weird around you - that’s not my point. We’ve been trainin’ for combat this whole time, but what if that’s not where we hit him? He gets angry in other ways, like when I didn’t bring you back to that dinner with Nova Prime, or when he got all defensive at our wedding when you mentioned protecting our people.” He looked at her properly, his eyes bright. “Gamora, we don’t need him to use the light to prove the kind of man he is.”

“We just need him to slip up again. From what Mantis has been _not_ telling us, he has all sorts of illicit activity going on around here,” Gamora continued. “And with our new alliance with the Nova Corps - ”

“ - we can take the evidence straight to them and have a whole, _real_ army behind us!” Peter finished excitedly. “And we’ve got time to do it, if Thanos sticks to his promise and doesn’t send the Chitauri. Gamora, this could actually work.”

“Yes, though we’ll have to finish Thanos off another time, I suppose.” She smiled half-heartedly. “We don’t want to draw the war here, so Ego’s death will unfortunately only take his own life. But at least this way, we minimize casualties. The Nova Corps will surely provide the resources we need to get your - _our_ people - away to safety.”

He grinned. “Let’s tell the others before Mantis does something crazy.”

“You have to let her make her own decisions sometimes, Peter,” she chided. “In this case, I agree with you, but it won’t always be that way. You want to stop treating her like a child? Let her choose.”

“You’re right,” Peter sighed, getting to his feet. He reached out for her hand, his smile widening as she once again, accepted it. It was becoming a familiar feeling to them both. “As always.”

“Not always,” Gamora corrected. “Just most of the time.” He laughed, shaking his head amusedly. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 The others seemed more agreeable to the new solution, even when Nebula and Rocket in particular realized it meant they were stuck on Ego’s planet for even longer than originally planned. Yondu especially seemed relieved to hear Mantis was no longer going to put herself in danger, and even felt generous enough to pull Gamora aside and apologize for their earlier argument.

“We both got a temper on us, don’t we?” he had said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to call you a lost cause, Gamora. Hell, you might be the most moral one here.”

“I wouldn’t say that at all,” Gamora had replied. “But I’m sorry that I disrespected you as well. You protected Peter and Mantis long before we ever got here, and I know there was only so much you could do to help them without risking lives. We both know what it’s like to make tough decisions. I shouldn’t judge you for them.” He had smiled at her in response, an admittedly garish grin with his awful teeth, but it was almost comforting in a way to know Yondu was on her side, too.

Dinner was tense, now that everyone was on high alert for Ego to make a mistake. Rocket had fashioned small cameras to hide on everyone’s person. Mantis, who knew things about Ego that she couldn’t tell them quite yet, was the twitchiest of them all, constantly tapping on the small lens hidden in the seam of her gloves as if to reassure herself it was still there.

“Mantis, I need you with me tomorrow,” Ego said, wiping at his mouth. “Irani sent over some new profiles from the outreach center. I think you should look them over and judge for yourself if they’re ready for society.”

“Why can we not meet them in person?” Mantis suggested uneasily. “It is hard for me to truly understand one’s emotions if I cannot see them face-to-face - ”

“We don’t have that kind of time, sweetheart,” Ego interrupted. “She has a new group arriving in a couple days, and there are only so many beds in that place. These people have to get moved out now. Whether that means bringing them here or sending them back to the Kyln, that’s up to you.”

“It is not up to _me_ to decide that, Father,” Mantis said patiently, though Peter could see her fists curling underneath the table. “The psychologists and social workers are the ones best qualified to choose.”

Ego paused, setting his napkin down. “Are you saying no to me, Mantis?” Everyone else froze, eyes going to poor Mantis who was practically quivering in her seat.

“I just think - ”

“Answer the question, _are you_ _saying no to me_?”

“I did not mean to disrespect you,” Mantis murmured, bowing her head in shame. “I just do not want to overstep the duties that I have been given. And I am not qualified to determine who is ready.”

To her surprise, Ego merely snorted in response, shaking his head in disappointment. “An empath who can’t understand other people. What do I keep you around for, then?” He got to his feet. A couple attendants immediately stepped in to grab his cutlery, ducking underneath his arms. At Mantis’s hurt expression, he added, “It was just a joke, sweetheart, don’t look at me like that. As for tomorrow, well, it’s up to you, Mantis. Join me or don’t. Just don’t blame me if these people end up in the wrong place. That’s on _you_.” With that, he exited the dining hall, whistling the same tune that he always seemed to have on his mind, one that Gamora hadn’t been able to identify.

As the doors closed behind him, it felt like the entire room was letting out a collective sigh. Even the attendants let their shoulders fall a little in relief. Peter squeezed Mantis’s hand in sympathy. “He’s been asking for you almost every day now,” Gamora said quietly.

“I do not want to do this anymore,” Mantis whispered, staring blankly at her untouched food. “The things he asks me to do...they need to stop. _I_ need to stop.”

“We’re gonna make sure that happens,” Peter promised. “All of us. It’s a team effort, guys. Right?” The others nodded vigorously. Even Drax reached across the table to pat Mantis on the back - a little too roughly, but the thought was there.

After dinner was over, Yondu escorted Mantis back to her room while the Titans disappeared to the guest quarters as per usual, assuming that once again, Peter and Gamora wanted to spend their evening alone. They were often the last to leave the dining hall these days, usually caught up in conversation, or electing to stay behind and help the attendants clear the table.

“Thank you again, your highnesses,” one of the youngest attendants said gratefully, bowing. “Your assistance is much appreciated.”

“Of course,” Gamora nodded. She watched as they gradually filed out of the room, pushing the dish carts back towards the kitchens. It was only then that she noticed Peter was staring at her. “What is it?”

“What, am I not allowed to look at you now?” Peter joked, holding out his arm for her to take. They strolled out into the corridor at a leisurely pace, their hips occasionally brushing as they did. Their physical closeness didn’t seem to phase her anymore.

“You look at me very strangely sometimes,” she said. “I don’t know if I _want_ to know what’s on your mind when you do.”

“Nothin’ weird,” he said defensively. “I was just thinking - and I was gonna mention it earlier - that your hair looks real nice today. You’ve got like, braids in it.”

“Mantis dropped by while I was having breakfast and we were talking about her visit to Id last week. She said she saw the style on one of the council members and wanted to try it out on me since my hair is longer than hers,” Gamora shrugged.

Peter’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment as he reached across as if to touch it. With her nod of permission, he gently picked up a single, narrow braid, tucking it behind her ear so it sat a little neater, the pad of his thumb brushing her earlobe. “I like it.”

“Tell Mantis that, it was _her_ doing,” she chuckled. “What’s our plan for tonight? Should we go over our Nova Corps contact list? Maybe look into getting those profiles Ego mentioned before tomorrow morning, so we can at least make suggestions if Mantis ends up joining him - ”

“I have a better idea,” he replied. “I’m tired, you’re totally tired, even if you’re pretending not to be. Let’s take the night off.”

She let out an exasperated huff. “Peter, there’s still so much we have to do - ”

“Please.” He came to a stop, stepping around her so they were face-to-face. He slid both his hands down her arms to squeeze hers, bowing his head slightly so they were at eye level. “I promise, I’ll help you with all that stuff in the morning after you kick my ass in combat practice again, but I really wanna do this now.”

“Do what now?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

 Gamora almost expected Peter to take her somewhere new, given the urgency of his footsteps, but soon enough, they reached Peter’s quarters - no, that wasn’t right, it was _their_ quarters - as per usual. Instead of going into Gamora’s room, however, Peter opened the double doors to his private bedroom, gesturing for her to go in. It wasn’t quite as messy as she had pictured it, not as charmingly haphazard the way its occupant often was, but it was incredibly spacious, boasting an enormous four-poster bed, a full set of plush couches positioned around a low coffee table, shelves filled with books and odd knick-knacks, and glass doors leading out to a generous-sized balcony.

“What are we doing here, Peter?” Gamora glanced around, still expecting to see piles of dirty clothes or scraps of junk food. It was only then that she realized he barely spent any time in here anymore, besides for sleeping. Every waking hour, it seemed, was spent elsewhere, often with someone else - often, _her_.

“I had more stuff I wanted to tell you about my mom,” Peter shrugged. “I thought I could do that while we’re out here, doing something she loved - stargazing.”

Peter pulled out an old blanket from his linen closet and laid it out on the balcony, setting his Walkman down nearby as he did earlier, and _oh_ , Gamora thought, _was that really just this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago._ She sat beside him, their backs against the wicker bench set outside that seemed to go unused, staring up into the darkness. It was more vibrant than their night on the rooftop of the Nova Corps headquarters, the sky here more akin to a dark maroon than an inky blue, though still very nearly pitch black. The stars twinkled brighter since it lacked the air pollution that Xandar had, though the constellations were distinctly different.

_For you, there'll be no more crying...for you, the sun will be shining….and I feel that when I'm with you...it's alright, I know it's right..._

“Are any of these the one you made for my pin? I didn’t recognize it.” Gamora carefully pulled it out from a small pouch on her utility belt, holding it in her flattened palm. Peter smiled a little at the sight of it. He liked knowing that she kept it close, even if she was never going to wear it again.

“A lot of these stars are artificial - Dad put ‘em up there,” Peter explained. “Most of them are for me, since they’re imitating the constellations you can see from Earth. And some of them are from stories that my mom used to tell me.”

“She _invented_ constellations?”

“My mom always liked to say, ‘your daddy is from the stars’,” he chuckled wryly. “She liked thinkin’ of all these new ones, as if it would help bring him home to us, be a family. Not that we needed him. She was doing awesome for a single mom, and we had help from her relatives if we ever had problems. But she just...missed him. And she thought I might need him, too. So she watched the stars every night, almost like she was looking for him.” He gestured towards a cluster of stars Gamora couldn’t quite comprehend - imagining constellations were hardly her forte; she could barely recognize existing ones. “That’s it right there. Your pin.”

“Tell me about it,” Gamora prompted. Her eyes were wide, earnest in a way he privately felt honored to have caused. He had the feeling that almost nothing excited her the way that _everything_ excited him, but this, somehow, was something she was eager to hear about.

Peter’s grin widened. “Okay, well, this is a story that she told me as a kid. This constellation is of this female warrior named Cimone. She lived in a land where there were borders, and curfews, and strict punishments that were meant to oppress everyone who lived there, except the royal family. So Cimone and her friends came up with a plan to overthrow them. They infiltrated the ranks of the royal guards, freed prisoners, and sabotaged the castle. As time went on, Cimone’s friends were captured, but not Cimone. She was smarter, faster, braver than anyone else, and she knew how to escape, every time. Eventually, word spread throughout the entire land about this incredible, fearless woman who was going to save them all.”

When he didn’t continue on, she took a moment to mull it over. Was that how he saw her? Fearless? She certainly didn’t feel that way. “And then what happened?”

Peter paused. “Uh, she...died.” Gamora frowned, unamused. “She - she died a hero, though! Anyways, you’re totally Cimone. Which is why I wanted to make you a little gift that honored both you and my mom.”

_To you, I'll give the world...to you, I'll never be cold...'cause I feel that when I'm with you...it's alright, I know it's right..._

Gamora couldn’t help but smile, turning the pin over slowly between her fingers. “I do like it, even if I don’t have any use for it. And I suppose I’d rather die a hero than live my life as a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster, and you ain’t dying anytime soon,” he said firmly.

“We’ll see,” she sighed, clearing her throat. “That wasn’t what you wanted to tell me, was it? It was my question, after all.”

“You’re right. I had something else.” Peter pulled out a small paper box from underneath the bench, opening it to reveal a stack of well-worn notes featuring neat, looping cursive. “I only recently got around to looking at these again. Letters my mom wrote to me while she was in the hospital. Something for her to do, I guess.”

Gamora’s breath hitched. “Peter, these are so personal. I couldn’t - ”

“If you couldn't tell already, I like sharing this stuff with you,” he laughed softly. He rifled through them until he found a specific one, passing it to her. The paper, though still deteriorated and stained, looked to be one of the newer ones of the bunch. One from Meredith’s last days, then. “Just...if you want to.”

Her eyes scanned the paper briefly before she decided to read out loud. “ _Dear Peter, they let me have the blinds open today, but not the windows. Fresh air is hard to come by in a hospital room._ ” Gamora swallowed. “ _Sometimes, I can see the stars, even during the day. It’s like they’re waiting for their time to shine, but they know it’s not quite their moment yet. I like to think of those stars as you. I know you don’t always get along with your schoolmates, especially with those bullies around, so you don’t talk much in class the way you did when you were younger. But when it’s just you and me, it’s like you light up the entire galaxy, all by yourself. I used to think that about your daddy. I still do sometimes, when I’m not angry at him for leaving us behind. For leaving you behind. But when I’m not mad at him, I remember him fondly. It seemed like he was entirely composed of light. Maybe someday, you will get to meet him, and you can shine together. But I also feel like his light could blind you._ ”

“ _I don’t have much time left_ ,” Gamora continued, her voice trembling. Peter’s hand had come to rest on the small of her back as if to soothe her, though he, too, felt unsteady. “ _I don’t want to scare you, but I want to tell you the truth. I need you to know, and I need you to be brave. You’ve been so strong for us both, but this is it for me. You’ll get to stay with Grandpa, and he’ll take very good care of you. Maybe your daddy will come find you someday. There are things that he can show you that are not of this Earth. I know that sounds scary, but you’ll understand when you’re older. You can do some good together, Peter. You’ve always been such a good boy. You just need to remember to never let your own light die out. I’m keeping you in my heart, my little Star-Lord. Love, Mom._ ”

_And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score…and I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before..._

He inhaled sharply, suddenly. “She loved calling me that. Calling me the real light of her life. All that...that cheesy stuff. Um, I mainly gave you that one because of all the things she said about Dad, though. I never paid much attention to what she said about him, because I knew I didn’t need anyone but her.”

Gamora chewed her lip thoughtfully. “There’s still so much we don’t know about him, Peter, even after all these years you’ve spent here. All the things he could be having Mantis do, things that even _she_ isn’t involved in...it could be more dangerous than anything we could ever imagine.”

Peter smiled ruefully, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “We can talk about all this in the morning. We’ve already had so much to deal with today. I just feel like...even though you haven’t been here for that long, it’s also like you’ve been here forever? Like I can tell you all this stuff, and not get judged or whatever. It’s probably just boring crap to you - the stories, the music, I mean, it can’t be that interesting. But I’m glad you’re listening, anyways.”

“It’s not boring,” Gamora protested. “It’s important to you. I don’t understand some of your music, but that doesn’t make it bad.”

“What is it about music that you don’t understand?” Peter asked curiously. “I thought it was pretty much a universal language.”

“Fixation on love, mostly.” She slid a bit closer to him so she could put the letter back in the box with the others, her arm grazing his knee as she did. “The lyrics describe it so intensely. Some all-encompassing feeling that dominates every thought, every action. Directing our choices, our lives.”

“You’ve never felt that way about someone?” Peter was looking at her oddly again, some foreign expression she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“No. Familial, platonic, romantic, or otherwise,” she shrugged, withdrawing her hand. “I just don’t feel things the way you do.”

“It’s not something that takes over your brain, necessarily,” Peter said thoughtfully. “Sometimes it’s like an immediate instinct. The first time I ever listened to music, I knew it was gonna be a big part of my life. But sometimes it takes a while before you even _like_ something. Hell, I _hated_ Yondu when he first picked me up. I just thought of him as this scary dude that took me away from everything I knew. And now...it’s like he’s my dad. A real dad, not the actual one I have. He irritates the crap outta me, and we fight a whole bunch, but...we love each other. No question.”

“And your sister?”

“Mantis, she’s real easy to love. We were scared little kids together, and all either of us wanted was a friend. We protected each other right from the start,” Peter shrugged. “And...you.”

“What _about_ me?” Gamora shifted her weight, leaning into him.

“Y’know, the thing that happened this morning.” He ducked his head, almost shy. “Well, _almost_ happened. But I know it’s what I wanted. How about you?”

Gamora found her mind wandering back to several hours ago, to the feeling of his hand across her stomach, his hair brushing against her forehead, his pupils blown wide with something akin to affection as he very nearly brought his mouth to hers. But it wasn’t just about _that_ moment, was it? It was his willingness to stand by her from the very beginning, his dedication to his people, his unorthodox ways of bringing her back from her emotional lows. His desire to set right what was wrong, to be something of a hero that neither of them had ever known before.

Admittedly, she expected absolutely none of it when Thanos had first sent her here. She felt, at worst, he was going to have her and her people executed for suggesting they kill his father. At best, she was going to be married an arrogant, vapid man who had never worked a day in his life, had never seen bloodshed any deeper than a papercut. And in some ways, she was right - he _was_ arrogant to a degree, but he was far more nurturing than anything else. He _had_ never worked properly before, through no fault of his own. And he _had_ never seen battle because, simply, put, he never had to. She was glad to find that in every other way, she was proven wrong. Their paths may have diverged as children, but it brought them here today, and that was what counted, wasn’t it? Only now, it made it harder to forge her own road afterward like she had planned.

“I think I wanted it, too,” Gamora admitted. He looked elated at her confession, his whole face lit up in anticipation. “I just don’t know if we can afford to have what we want.”

“Because we might die?” Peter gave her a sad smile. “I dunno. That kinda gives me the incentive to do somethin’ about it now.”

“And if only one of us makes it? What happens then?” She inhaled sharply at the thought. “Whoever survives will have to live on, knowing what it felt like to have what we wanted and having lost it.”

“We aren’t even gonna call it what it is, are we?” He let out a hollow laugh. “We can plan how to kill gods and monsters all damn day, but when it comes to our own feelings...it’s just some unspoken thing.”

“We put a name on it, and it becomes real.” It was Gamora who reached for Peter’s hand this time, tentatively intertwining their fingers together. Her grip was a little firmer than his, and he could feel the slight drag of her rings across his palms as she did so, but it felt comforting all the same. “We started as allies, Peter. Then partners, then friends. We add another layer, and the mission becomes _that_ much harder to complete.”

He swallowed his disappointment down, squeezing her hand in return. “Okay. I’m...okay with that.”

Peter felt a weight against his shoulders. To his surprise, it was Gamora’s head coming to rest on him, the crown of her head grazing his neck. Their hands remained locked between them, resting on Peter’s lap. They sat in silence for a few minutes, breathing in the crisp night air, ruminating over everything that had been said and done on this day that felt like it was never going to end. “So...which constellation are you, Star-Lord?”

He laughed. “My mom said I wasn’t a constellation. I was a single star. Arcturus.” He gestured towards the night sky with his free hand. “One of the brightest stars in the sky. It translates to a bunch of things, apparently - ‘guardian’, ‘uplifted one’, ‘keeper of heaven’, ‘star of joy’. I guess I was a pretty cheerful kid.” He looked down at their joined hands, his thumb coming to rest on her wedding ring. “Mom always imagined Cimone had a lover waiting for her back home. Someone who always worried about her, like _all_ the time, and wanted her to stay with him instead. I didn’t like that part of the story.”

“Why is that?”

“I liked to think Cimone’s lover was right out on the battlefield with her. Maybe he wasn’t as smart or as brave as she was, but he was devoted to her cause. He believed in what she did and who she was. I thought it’d be romantic if they died together, side by side.”

“You’ve got strange notions of romance, Peter Quill,” Gamora sighed. But if she tucked herself a little closer into his side, no one had to know.

* * *

The next morning started off like any other - Peter and Gamora had breakfast separately, as Peter usually got up later than she did. Gamora went to train with Drax and Nebula, and even spent some time with Rocket and Groot, who liked to hang around with Kraglin in the armory. It was when she returned to their shared quarters to meet with Peter for one-on-one sparring practice when she realized something was wrong.

“G’mora,” Yondu said, nodding hastily at her. He was standing in the middle of the common area, anxiously twirling his arrow. Peter was folded into himself on one of the couches, hands covering his face.

She went to stand beside Peter immediately in concern. “What happened?” she demanded.

“It wasn’t me,” Yondu said defensively, holding up his hands in surrender. “I swear, I had nothin’ to do with it - ”

“Yeah, except you could’ve stopped her, Yondu,” Peter said, his voice muffled through his hands.

Gamora glanced between them, but neither seemed to want to elaborate. “Is this about Mantis? What did she do?”

“Left with Ego before the sun came up. She tried to tell me what was goin’ on, but he came and practically dragged her away,” Yondu sighed.

“ _Left_? I thought they were going to be looking at criminal profiles in Ego’s study,” Gamora frowned.

“So did I!” Yondu exclaimed. “I been trackin’ every ship that’s left the hangar, but nothing’s turned up. I dunno where they went.”

“We have to find her. She could be in danger,” Gamora said.

“Hey, we don’t know that yet,” Yondu countered. “We stir up a fuss in front of Ego, how’s that gonna look?”

“So your plan is to just sit here and worry about her instead of actually _doing_ something about it?”

“What can we do, Gamora?” Peter burst out suddenly, his hands falling into his lap. “It’s probably nothing. And Yondu’s right, we piss Dad off and this whole thing is done for.”

“Not good enough,” Gamora said firmly. “Yondu, she must have wanted to talk to you for a reason. Something you know that we don’t.”

“What do you - ”

“A month ago, on Xandar, we were having dinner in that little restaurant on the night of the opening ceremony. Mantis basically told us that Ego was making her do something highly immoral. And from all of _your_ suspicious behavior, you must know what it is.”

“I...I have a pretty solid guess,” Yondu admitted, shriveling under Gamora’s steely glare. “But if that’s the case, we better stay away instead of tryin’ to find ‘em. If Ego sees either of you seein’ _him_ , you’ll be dead in no time.”

“ _And_ , if you know what she’s up to, there must be something different about this time. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered saying anything,” Gamora concluded.

“Dammit, girl. You’re persistent, I’ll give you that much,” Yondu sighed. “But you’re gonna regret it if you go chasin’ that lead.”

Gamora glanced down at Peter, who was fretfully twisting his hands together, the light idly swirling around his knuckles. She sat beside him, grabbing his hands and squeezing them tight. The light dissipated almost immediately. “Peter, please. Mantis needs us.”

“Gamora, I...we gotta trust Yondu on this one,” he whispered.

Mouth twisting in disappointment, Gamora promptly yanked her hands away. “Then I guess you don’t trust _me_ as much as you said you did,” she said coolly. “I’m going to go find her, with or without you. I won’t make myself seen unless she’s in trouble. But you’re both welcome to wait here like cowards in the meantime.”

With that, she stood and stormed out of the room. Peter faltered as he watched her leave, unsure of whether to follow her - or, more accurately, whether to join her or to stop her. His heart felt a little heavier as the doors creaked to a close.

* * *

Gamora wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for, to be honest. If Yondu was telling the truth about tracking the ships - and at that point, he had no reason to lie - then Ego and Mantis still had to be somewhere on the planet. Granted, that didn’t narrow her search down by much.

She managed to convince Kraglin to let Rocket pilot one of the guard ships out, but from there, she didn’t know where to go. Nebula and Rocket were no help as expected, instead remarking on how surprising it was that she had no plan. “ _And_ you yelled at Quill?” Rocket exclaimed incredulously. “Geez, I thought you two were past all that.”

“With Quill’s irritable personality, I would not be surprised,” Drax interjected unhelpfully. Gamora elbowed him.

“I didn’t _yell_ ,” Gamora corrected. “I was just disappointed that he didn’t want to help. After everything else that’s happened.”

“What’re we even lookin’ for?” Rocket asked, his claws tapping rapidly on the navigation screen. “You think they’re in the capital?”

“If it’s as dangerous as Mantis and Yondu made it sound, I doubt it,” Gamora said. “Head for undeveloped land first. Scan for vehicles and heat signatures.”

“You got it,” Rocket nodded.

An hour passed before they came across anything of interest at all, a cluster of what looked like abandoned ships, crumpled into a junk heap. Gamora’s heart leapt in her throat when she thought she spotted movement, but it was just Rocket who had somehow reached it first, poking around for scraps. She gave him five minutes before they returned to the ship.

Another two hours went by, landing and taking off intermittently whenever they saw something remotely suspicious, only to find nothing at all. She was getting increasingly frustrated, especially with Groot and Drax complaining about how hungry they were getting. “You’re overthinkin’ it, Gam,” Rocket said after the sixth time he had gotten them back in the air. “Mantis might just be stressed out from all the fighting yesterday. Could just be a typical day for her and Ego otherwise.”

“But she is still in his clutches with no way out. The sooner we can stop him, the better,” Drax said fiercely, interrupting his own rant about how much his stomach ached. “We continue our search, Rocket.”

“Why do _you_ care?” Rocket rolled his eyes. “All you’ve ever done this whole time is complain about stuff!”

“You know why,” Drax replied evenly, though Gamora could see him digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

“If this is about your dead daughter again - ”

“I am Groot!” Groot exclaimed, scandalized.

“Rocket, take it down a notch,” Gamora ordered, leaning over from the co-pilot’s seat to swat his shoulder.

“We’ve _all_ got dead people, man! That’s no excuse for you to go and get attached to every kid you see - ”

“ _Rocket_ , that’s enough!” Gamora got to her feet, standing over him. “Leave Drax alone. We need to focus on getting Mantis back.”

“Hey, sorry I’m late to the search party. You guys miss me?” The speakers crackled to life, the tinny sound of Peter’s voice straining through. Gamora had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling - she didn’t need Rocket making fun of her, too. She turned towards the cockpit windows, watching as the obnoxiously bright Milano swept into view. “I said this was a team effort, didn’t I? And there’s no way I’m leaving my sister behind. Besides, Yondu says he knows where they are.”

Unable to prevent her grin from growing, Gamora tapped on the communication screen. “Then lead the way.”

* * *

 The two ships touched down five miles out from where Ego and Mantis were supposedly hidden away, both groups meeting at the bottom of the Milano’s landing ramp. The others looked on in surprise as Gamora immediately went to Peter, who grabbed her hands and pulled her into him, smiling down at her. “Thank you. For changing your mind,” Gamora said.

“Didn’t wanna be a coward today,” Peter replied cheerfully. “Don’t wanna be a coward ever again. You really know how to guilt trip a guy, you know that? So let’s just go make sure she’s okay and then we’ll leave. Deal?”

She huffed. “But if something is seriously wrong, we _have_ to intervene. I’m not letting anyone die on my watch. _Deal_.” Peter nodded solemnly in agreement before breaking out into another goofy grin, swinging their hands between them almost playfully. Rocket made a retching noise behind Gamora’s back.

“Are you two done flirtin’ yet? We gotta go!” Yondu exclaimed, gesturing to the long path ahead of them. Flushing, Gamora pulled away first so she could join Nebula, Peter staring after her longingly. Yondu wasn’t sure whether to be happy or nauseated.

The walk was unusually silent, considering it was typically difficult to get Peter to stop talking. It was a long stretch of desert-like terrain, bright red sand dunes that seemed to go on forever without reprieve, the only vegetation being sparse weeds and patchy grass. Rocket, Groot, and Kraglin remained behind with the two ships on standby in case they needed to make an emergency getaway. Yondu led the way with Peter by his side, with Gamora, Nebula, and Drax following close behind.

They came across a cavern after some time had gone by, large and daunting. Yondu looked grim as he led the group inside. It was dark, damp, and unpleasant as they squelched their way through thick mud across uneven rock, trying their best to be as quiet as possible. When they reached a split path, Yondu stopped them, turning to face the others uneasily.

“There ain’t no unseeing this,” he whispered. “Quill, Gamora. You two should go on up ahead. Mantis needs them familiar faces if she’s going through what I think she’s going through. I’ll stay back here with these two, so we can get a hold of Kraglin if you get in trouble.”

Drax and Nebula, in a rare moment of solidarity, exchanged offended looks. “This is ridiculous! We came all the way out here, and you’re just going to make us stay behind?” Nebula demanded.

“It’ll be okay, Neb.” Gamora patted her sister somewhat awkwardly on the shoulder. “Yondu’s right. If this is as bad as it seems - ”

“Nothing will be worse than what we’ve already endured,” Nebula countered.

“You sure about that?” Yondu drawled. Nebula balked at the thought, withdrawing in defeat.

With one final nod to Yondu, Peter and Gamora made their way down the rest of the cavern alone. Though they weren’t walking particularly close together, she could sense him shivering anyways, his eyes darting around in anticipation.

It was another half mile before they could hear anything other than their own labored breath. “Do not worry. You are safe here.” Peter nearly jumped for joy at the sound of Mantis’s voice. “Ego will take good care of you, I promise.” They slowed to a stop as they approached the corner, hearts nearly stopping at what they saw.

Ego was stood proud atop an enormous boulder in the middle of a large, hollowed-out cave. Tendrils of light were dancing merrily behind him, illuminating every gold thread of his uniform, every silver-gray strand of hair on his head. Mantis was at ground level directly below him, kneeling down beside a young boy no older than ten, her fingers wrapped loosely around his wrists. Surrounding them were perfectly concentric circles of people - by Gamora’s count, there were at least fifty of them - of mixed genders, ages, and races. They were stood completely still, eyes glazed over, staring straight ahead. There were members of the guard stationed evenly among them, though Peter couldn’t recognize any of them to be part of Kraglin’s men.

“What the…” Peter whispered. Gamora slapped her hand over his mouth, shooting him a warning glance.

Mantis released the child, getting to her feet and turning to look up at Ego. “He is yours, Father.”

Ego grinned triumphantly, clapping his hands together. The sound echoed throughout, though Mantis seemed to be the only one who heard it at all. “Excellent. My boy,” he boomed. “You’ve come home to me.”

The child blinked up at him, coming out of his trance-like state. “You...you’re my dad?” Peter’s blood ran cold.

“Well, I figured my rugged good looks would make that obvious,” Ego chuckled. “My name is Ego. Welcome to my planet. Or, well, _me_.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Peter mumbled, slumping against the cavern wall. Gamora hushed him again, kneeling by his side to keep him upright.

“Mother always said I would get to meet you one day,” the boy said thoughtfully.

“And is your mother well, son?” Ego asked.

The child looked at his feet. “She...she died. A month ago. There was an accident where she worked. Some broken machine. They wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ego frowned, rubbing at his beard. “You know, your mother meant a great deal to me. What Illa and I had...it was something truly special.”

The child nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t mean to be rude, but...what are you, exactly?”

“I’m what they call a Celestial, son.” Ego floated down to join him, kneeling in front of the boy. “The ground you’re standing on? It’s really me.” The boy looked astonished, hopping back and forth on his feet. Ego chuckled. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. There are billions of people on this planet, and they are _all_ waiting to meet you. Just like I have.”

“Why? And who are these people?” The boy gestured around him at the catatonic crowd. His pupils were starting to grow larger in fear, having just noticed them.

“Well, I’m their king. Which makes you my crown prince,” Ego replied. “And this here is my adoptive daughter, Mantis. The others here are like her - lost, but now found. We’re going to give them good homes here, good lives. Well, most of them, anyway. Some of them might be more suitable for battle than society. But that’s what Sakaar is for.”

Now it was Gamora’s turn to nearly burst with anger. “The Grandmaster,” she whispered urgently. “Peter, everything we’ve been speculating, all of our fears about your father...they’re all true.”

Peter’s eyes were glossy with tears, one trailing its way down his cheek. “He said the same things to me when I first got here,” he mumbled. “He said all that stuff about my mother.”

“Now, I’m going to ask you to do something a bit odd, son, so bear with me.” Ego got to his feet, looming over the child. “Can you hold your hands together like this?” The boy cupped his hands in imitation, smiling tentatively. “Good, very good. Now close your eyes and concentrate. Take your brain to the center of the planet. Try to make light the way that I can.”

The boy’s little face screwed up in concentration, his brows knitting together, his nose scrunching tightly. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t so utterly horrific at the same time. Thirty seconds dragged on before the boy let out an exhausted exhale, unable to produce a single spark. His hands fell to his sides. “I can’t do it,” he complained. “I need time to practice, and I’ll get good, I promise.”

“Practice isn’t what’s important here, boy.” Ego’s voice went flat, monotonous, even. He abruptly turned around, cape whipping behind him. “You don’t need time. You need the gene. And you don’t have it.”

Mantis let out a small, childlike whimper. “Father, please. He is nervous. Let him try again - ”

“Just do it, Mantis.”

“I don’t - I can’t - ”

“Of course you can!” Ego snapped very suddenly. “The last one was only six months ago. Are you trying to tell me your powers don’t work at _all_ now? What are you here for, then?”

“N - no, I just think - ”

“It doesn’t matter what you think! Do it!” Ego shouted. The boy was starting to cry, desperately wringing his hands together in a futile attempt to make the light appear.

Finally, Mantis stepped towards the boy again, her hands resting on his shoulders. “You will be calm,” she said shakily. “Everything will be okay. You are safe. You will go to sleep now.” The boy stopped crying immediately, his arms falling limp. Mantis turned away for a moment to choke out a sob of her own. “You - you will have a peaceful sleep. You will get to see your mother again.”

“Oh, crap,” Peter whispered. “Gamora, he’s gonna - ”

Before he could finish his sentence, Ego’s light whipped out from his hands, piercing straight through the young boy’s chest. It suspended him in the air, giving him enough time to let out a strangled shout, before dropping him back onto the ground in a motionless heap. Mantis wept, falling to her knees beside him.

“Oh, grow up, Mantis. You didn’t even know his name,” Ego scoffed before turning towards the nearest guard. “Take the body, you know what to do. And tell that ridiculous Ravager - what was his name? Taser-something - that he’s only getting half of his payment. This one turned out to be a dud like all the others.”

“He just - he killed him,” Peter gasped, his knees buckling beneath him. “Gamora, he - ”

“I know, I know,” she murmured. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her fully against his front, burying his face into her neck, letting out small, quiet sobs. “That’s why today was different. Mantis knew he found another child.”

“I thought I was the only one,” he whispered. “I thought _Mom_ was the only one for him.”

“I know, Peter, I know, and I hate to say this, but we have to get out of here,” she said soothingly. “Mantis is traumatized - we all are - but she isn’t in danger. We can’t risk everyone right now, okay? We have to go, we can talk to her about this after - ”

“Are you still crying? Come on now, Mantis.” Ego turned briefly to look at his daughter. “He’s just one of _thousands_ \- ”

“He was a child! Just like me, and just like Peter!” Mantis shouted suddenly, stumbling to her feet.

“No, _not_ like you and Peter. No powers, no abilities, no nothing. What could he possibly have to offer us, Mantis?” Ego snapped.

“Is that what you always think? What can other people do for _you_? Not what you can do for them?” Mantis’s voice grew stronger with every word. “Did _you_ kill his mother? Did _you_ cause her accident?”

Ego snorted derisively. “Don’t be paranoid. Meredith was a different story. It broke my heart to put that tumor in her head, yes, but if she was still alive, I might’ve never left Terra again.”

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of Peter’s lungs, bile rising in his throat, his knuckles turning white as he clutched Gamora tight, the only person who could anchor him now. “I - he - _what?_ \- ”

Mantis slowly kneeled on the ground once more, her cries subsiding as she splayed her palms flat against the terrain. She stared down at her bruised and bleeding fingers. “I will no longer serve you, _Ego_. You think that building the world in your image is the answer. But killing your children is not the answer. Hurting Peter is not the answer. And hurting _me_ is not the answer.”

“You better think about what you’re doing, girl - ”

Mantis lifted her head to stare at him, her eyes strangely serene, almost hypnotizing. “You will go to sleep now.”

The last thing Peter and Gamora saw was a blinding flash of white light emanating from beneath Mantis’s hands before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I feel like I keep apologizing for the hefty chapters, but this one definitely got away from me this time. Also, I can't take credit for the constellation story that Peter told Gamora, that comes from one of my favorite video games ever, _[Night in the Woods](https://nightinthewoods.gamepedia.com/Constellations_%26_Dusk_Stars)_. The song they listened to by Meredith's statue is [Everything I Own](https://open.spotify.com/track/52VIdyKqp1pJRSyUQaxKUA?si=LO11oETiQta24AULO_pX6A) by Bread, and the song they listened to in Peter's room is [Songbird](https://open.spotify.com/track/6DrXZwTuhl5Ow4mcmSWjME?si=wxouOfD-Qa-A3t8XC51PWA) by Fleetwood Mac.
> 
> Next chapter should hopefully be mid-May, though if you're interested in my other writing, I imagine I'll have a post-Infinity War oneshot soon after the movie comes out. I'm also working on another Peter/Gamora AU that I'll be posting once this one is done, which will have more frequent updates and much shorter chapters!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So glad we've almost made it...so sad they had to fade it..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this fic is not MCU canon, I do borrow some elements from _Avengers: Infinity War_ in this chapter, so **spoiler warning** if you haven't seen it yet. Also, additional warning for mentions and descriptions of blood, injuries, canon-typical violence, and torture.

Peter woke to a persistent, high-pitched ringing in his ear and the muffled sound of his name being whispered urgently, over and over again. Someone’s fingers were digging so tightly in his shoulders that they were leaving welts in his skin, trying desperately to shake him awake. “Peter...Peter...come on, wake up…” He slowly propped himself up into a sitting position, his back against the scraggly cave wall. He blinked into the darkness, alarmed to find Gamora knelt in front of him, her face mere inches from his, a fresh cut across her forehead that left an unsightly streak of blood running down her cheek. She looked relieved to see him, though, gripping his arms to keep him steady. “Peter, listen to me. Mantis is in there and she’s holding him down, but she can’t do it alone, we have to help. Can you stand? Are you hurt?”

“Holding...holding who down?” Peter paused to cough out what felt like an entire desert’s worth of dust out of his lungs.

Gamora frowned. “Your...your father. Did you hit your head? Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah.” Another hacking cough. “Yeah. D - Dad, he killed that boy. My brother. He’s killed... _thousands_ of my...my siblings. And he killed my mom.”

She nodded sadly. “It would seem that way. I’m sorry, Peter.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Peter muttered, clenching his fists. “I’m gonna find him, and I’m gonna kill him.”

“Not with everyone still on the planet,” Gamora said firmly. “We have to help Mantis first. She’s put Ego to sleep, but she won’t be able to hold him forever. Yondu already called Kraglin, they’re on their way with your ship.”

Wheezing softly, Peter stumbled to his feet. He nearly tripped over himself, but Gamora’s reflexes were faster, slipping under his shoulder to support him, though she hobbled as she did. He glanced down to see a large gash in her leg, similar to the one she had gotten during the battle at their wedding. “Wait...you’re hurt.”

Gamora shook her head adamantly. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Let’s go.”

They slowly made their way into the cave, dreading what they might find. Mantis was knelt on the ground, her palms flat against the surface, her antennae angled forward in concentration. The guards were all unconscious, sprawled across the floor, while the captives appeared to be as unresponsive as before. Ego’s body, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Mantis…” Peter could only stare at her, speechless.

She looked up at him with big, watery eyes. “I’m so sorry,” Mantis whispered. “I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“We...we can talk about this later.” Peter turned away. He wasn’t sure if he felt incredibly guilty for having left Mantis to deal with her secrets alone, or incredibly angry that she had never mentioned it before. “Where’s Dad?”

“His physical form evaporated a few moments ago. I suspect he is reforming into something stronger,” Mantis said quietly. “I cannot make him sleep forever. We need to evacuate, _now_.”

“Are we even gonna be able to get a hold of the Nova Corps in time? What do we - what do we even say to them? They have no _clue_ what’s happening out here!” Peter groaned, running his hands through his hair.

“We don’t have to say anything.” Gamora unbuckled one of the pouches on her utility belt and pulled out the small camera that Rocket had given her the night before. “Rocket’s already downloading the feed to the Milano’s database. We’ll have a message out to them in fifteen minutes flat.”

“I could kiss you right now,” Peter said half-seriously. Gamora elbowed him in retaliation, though Mantis cracked a smile for the first time in what seemed like weeks. “And what about all these people? We gotta help ‘em get out of here. What’d Dad do to them, anyways?”

Mantis chewed her lip. “Actually...they are under _my_ control right now.”

Peter blanched. “What?”

“I may be capable of more than I have ever shown you,” Mantis admitted, ducking her head. “When...when Ego first took me in, all I could do was help him sleep and regulate emotions. But after some time, he became very frustrated with my limitations. He wanted me to be of more use. So he took me to the Priests of Pama - ”

“Mantis...that’s a Kree faction,” Gamora interrupted, astonished. “He took you to the _Kree_ when you were a _child_?”

“Yes,” Mantis said sadly. “I think I was four years old. They enhanced my existing abilities and gave me new powers that even _I_ do not fully understand. But one of my new specialties is my ability to put hundreds of people in a dream-like stasis at once.” Peter and Gamora looked on at the unconscious crowd, their eyes glazed over, staring straight ahead at nothing. “If I take them out of it, they will not remember anything that has happened here. But we should take them somewhere safe first.”

“The Milano won’t be able to fit much more than just us, but I can get Kraglin to send for more ships,” Peter said, exhaling slowly. “The rest of us will pack up everything we can manage back at the palace and the armory, evacuate the planet, and…come back for you, since you gotta keep Dad down as long as possible.” He glanced at Gamora. “But I don’t like the idea of leaving Mantis here by herself.”

“Having someone else here will not make my sleep ability any stronger,” Mantis shrugged. “I will be okay, Peter.”

“You need someone to guard you in case Ego suddenly comes back,” Gamora said firmly. “Peter, you go with the others. I’ll stay.”

“What? I don’t like that idea, either!” Peter exclaimed.

“ _Someone_ has to do it. Do you want to waste _more_ time by fighting over who it will be?” Gamora countered, narrowing her eyes at him, before softening. “Peter...I said my job was to keep everyone safe. Let me stay so I can do that. _You_ need to take care of your people.”

Before Peter could respond, they were interrupted by an unceremoniously loud crash behind them. They turned to see the Milano coming to a rocky landing, its wings barely grazing the sides of the cave. Groot waved cheerily at them from the cockpit. Sighing, Peter knelt down beside Mantis, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll come back for you, okay? Just stay calm. Try not to think about all that other stuff.”

“Okay. And I’m sorry,” Mantis repeated softly.

“Seriously, don’t think about it. We can talk about it later.” Peter briefly kissed her forehead before getting to his feet, turning towards Gamora. “I don’t like this, but I ain’t about to tell you what to do,” he sighed. “Stay on comms so I know you’re both okay.”

Gamora stepped forward to pat him lightly on the chest, her hands coming to rest against his folded forearms. “You should get going. We’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

With one last worried look, Peter reluctantly pulled away and sprinted toward the ship. Gamora and Mantis watched as the Milano took off once more, a sense of dread settling firmly in their chests.

* * *

Peter was quick to fill in the others on the whole story, though unsurprisingly, Yondu already seemed fully informed, clenching his teeth throughout as if to stop himself from interrupting. The atmosphere on the ship was sobering after that - even Rocket had no wisecracks to make, and Nebula seemed uneasy about leaving Gamora behind. The atmosphere when they returned to the palace added a sense of manic frenzy as they swept through all the rooms, gathering up as many crucial belongings as they could. Peter glanced around his quarters in resignation while he packed up his and Gamora’s things, realizing this was going to be the last time he was ever going to be here, the last time this room, this palace, this _planet_ was going to exist.

The servants were initially confused at what was going on, though Kraglin made quick work of ordering them to pack up their things, find their families, and prepare to leave. He also sent out his guards to the cities and sound the evacuation alert. Rocket, unfortunately, was less successful, unable to get a hold of the Nova Corps. “Are they on vacation or somethin’? What the hell’s going on?” Rocket exclaimed. “Quill, what do we do now?”

“The original plan it is,” Peter said. “I’ll go make the call now. Everyone head to the throne room. Check in with Kraglin on how we’re doing, make sure we’ve got numbers and a system going on, or boarding everyone’s just gonna be complete chaos.” He tossed his bags to Drax, who immediately dropped them all in confusion. “Dude. I kinda wanted you to take those for me?”

“Right, that makes more sense,” Drax nodded sheepishly. Rocket snorted, hefting his own bag over his shoulder before heading out the door, the others following closely behind. Peter turned back to enter his personal study, his heart racing in his throat.

Once he turned his computer back on, he pulled up the contact, trying his best to stay calm. Every minute he was away from Mantis and Gamora, every second that his people were still here, was another one wasted. “Hey, Ambassador Ragnarok - ”

“It’s _Ragnvaldr_ , sire,” the man sighed, his face filling up the screen. “Ragnarok is a prophesied apocalyptic scenario - ”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I know I called off our arrangement yesterday, but I guess I spoke too soon. I’m gonna need your help after all, and I kinda need it...now?”

Ragnvaldr wrinkled his nose. “You should know the prince isn’t available at the moment. In fact, I believe he’s on Midgard right now.”

“That’s...weird. Well, whatever, we can do this without him. I just owe him, _big time_. If he ever, I dunno, gets stranded in space or whatever, I’ll pick him up! Give him a ride home,” Peter grinned toothily. “Please, Ambassador. My people could die at any minute if you don’t help us. Whatever Asgard needs from me afterward, I can provide. Just... _please_.”

Ragnvaldr sighed again, longer this time. “Alright, sire. I’ll tell Heimdall to open the Bifrost. Do be patient, we only _just_ finished cleaning up after the Dark Elf incident from last week.”

* * *

“I would feel better if you were sitting down,” Mantis commented. Her eyes were following Gamora, who had been pacing restlessly for the last ten minutes. “You are making me very dizzy.”

“I can’t help it, it’s those _people_.” Gamora jabbed her finger at the nearest motionless captive. “I feel like they could jump out at me at any time. Or transform into your father.”

“He is no longer my father,” Mantis said darkly. “Now you have seen what he has me do. The horrible things he asks of me.”

“Why didn’t you tell Peter earlier?” Gamora crouched in front of Mantis, attempting to meet her eyes, but the other girl was too evasive. “It wouldn’t have escalated like this if he knew.”

“Ego said if I ever told Peter _anything_ \- about the people, the children, his mother - he would kill Peter. Without hesitation. At first, I wasn’t sure if he would, since he needs Peter’s powers to accomplish his goals, but - ”

“What? What goals?” Gamora frowned. “How many secrets have you been keeping, Mantis?”

“Too many.” Mantis smiled wryly. “I will explain everything when Peter comes back for us, I promise. I do not like holding all of these terrible things inside of me for so long. I felt like I was going to explode. But I could not risk losing Peter, even if it meant hiding things from him.”

Gamora finally sat down beside her, giving her a sympathetic smile. “This has been hard on you, too. Peter may have trouble understanding why, but I get it. You had a tough choice to make, and I would have done the same in your place. Thanos...he sometimes threatened to hurt Nebula if I didn’t do as he said. He knew we preferred each other over all of our other siblings. We spent more time together, were raised more closely together.”

“But you do not seem very close,” Mantis observed. “Like you do not know how to show love and affection.”

“Because we were never given any,” Gamora shrugged. “I suppose for us, love meant letting the other person live another day. Pulling our punches during training when Thanos wasn’t looking. Going back for the other if they were injured instead of leaving them to die. It isn’t always about hugs and happy memories.”

“But you have learned love. I can feel it.” Mantis smiled apologetically, shaking her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It just radiates off you so strongly. Like a beacon, calling out for something. Or someone.”

Gamora withdrew herself, instantly wary. “I thought I told you, I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Interesting how you assumed I was talking about Peter,” Mantis said slyly. “Besides, what else is there to talk about?”

“The end of the world, maybe?” Gamora gestured at the crowd surrounding them, the crumbling rock and ash residue from Mantis’s attack. Mantis looked crestfallen, though, and Gamora couldn’t help but give in. After all, the other girl was probably desperate for something pleasant to focus on. “Fine. What?”

“Well, emotions are not always the same for every person,” Mantis said thoughtfully. “I mean, the way you feel love differs between the _people_ that you love. Your heartbeat is steadiest when you are with Groot, because to you, he makes you feel calm and secure. Your brain is most active around Rocket and Drax, because they challenge you, in good ways _and_ bad ways. And your head and your heart are most in sync around Nebula because you know her best.”

“That seems...accurate, actually,” Gamora admitted.

“Your brain is on alert around me and Yondu, because you still do not fully understand how to deal with us,” Mantis continued. “You worry about angering Yondu and upsetting me. Do not worry, Gamora. I am not afraid of you like I was when you first arrived. I am in awe of you, actually.”

“I’m not someone to be worshipped,” Gamora protested, thinking back to the Meredith statue. She really wasn’t looking for fame and fortune. She didn’t want a monument in her name or a plaque singing her praises. All she wanted was to live the rest of her life, sure of who she was, without needing anyone else’s affirmation. “I want to be a leader, not a god.”

“And Peter,” Mantis continued excitedly. “Oh, he cares so _much_ about you. I think he would be embarrassed if I were to tell you the full extent of his emotions, but I promise that they are very sincere. He has had a few casual relationships, people that he has slept with. He liked them enough, but it was mostly about physical attraction for him. It is entirely different from the way he feels when you are around.”

There it was, that _thing_ Gamora wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about. She had very barely skimmed the surface of her feelings in her discussion with Peter, even surprised _herself_ at the extent of her confession to him. She wasn’t about to disclose it to Mantis, no matter what she “read” from her mind or her heart. Still, Mantis seemed persistent, and it was keeping her calm. She supposed she could afford to give Mantis a bit of a free pass if it meant that Ego would be kept at bay. “We had a conversation last night, actually. About what comes after all of...this. Who we would be to each other once this is all over.”

Mantis let out a delighted squeal. “And what did you decide on?”

“We didn’t.” Gamora had resorted to drawing mindlessly in the dust beneath her, her fingernails tracing out subconscious shapes that were somewhat beginning to resemble stars. She paused. “I think that’s something to be kept between me and him.”

“I understand,” Mantis nodded. “Ego always wanted Peter to settle down, but he had this idea in his head of what kind of woman Peter would like. He thought he would want someone glamorous and outgoing, someone who loves music as much as he does. Personally, I do not know if Peter would want to put up with someone who is _too_ much like him,” she giggled. “I think you suit each other very well. You bring out the best parts of him. He seems more focused and more self-aware when you are with him. Does it feel that way for you, too?”

“You mean you _aren’t_ trying to read me when I’m around him?” Gamora asked disbelievingly. Mantis shrugged innocently. “I don’t know. Being here...it makes me wonder what kind of person I really am. The person I was with Thanos, or the person that I am now, which one is for real?”

“I think you are the same regardless,” Mantis replied. “Do not undersell yourself, Gamora. You are not a ‘before’ or ‘after’ scenario. You are here, and now.”

Gamora was unsure of how to respond. All the facets of her own self - what she saw, what _they_ saw - could never be fully reconciled, not when her whole _life_ was definitively “before” and “after”. _Before_ Thanos killed her parents, _after_ he took her in. _Before_ she arrived on Ego’s planet, _after_ she made her true intentions clear. And here they were, right at the end of another “before”, about to cross the threshold into her next “after”. But what did that mean?

Before coming here, Gamora imagined that her “after” would mean either warming another jail cell for years to come or exiling herself to Sakaar so she could finally go down fighting. Now, “after” had the potential of being so much more. The Nova Corps had come to trust and respect her, her people seemed far more loyal and familial than they had three months ago, and Peter...well, he had made a promise of adventure, a great unknown. Strangely enough, it wasn’t as scary of a concept as it had first sounded. The idea of spending day after day, unsure of what was going to happen, but knowing that _something_ would, seemed like the kind of adrenaline rush she needed, the reprieve from the fixation and routine she had been living through since she was a child. Spontaneity wasn’t in her nature, but maybe it could be. Hell, _happiness_ hadn’t been in her nature, either, but being here made Gamora believe it was possible.

“I do not mean to overstep,” Mantis said, interrupting Gamora’s thoughts. “Sometimes my powers are more of a nuisance than an advantage. If I am around someone with such complex emotions, it is almost impossible for me to shut them out. Peter feels emotions very briefly most of the time, in small bursts. He does not let them linger in his head before he moves on to the next one. But you are the opposite. It is like your feelings simmer beneath the surface, growing stronger over time.”

“Mantis, I can’t...I can’t do this right now. Can we talk about something else?” A persistent throbbing was beginning to emanate through Gamora’s head, and she wasn’t sure if it was related to her wound.

“Sorry,” Mantis said sheepishly. “What would you like to discuss instead?”

Gamora settled back down, her breathing coming in a little less shallow. “What do you want to do after all this is over?”

“I am not sure. I would want to stay with Peter and Yondu, of course,” Mantis said thoughtfully. “We will have a small portion of Ego’s money, enough to last for a little while. I want to keep the outreach center open if it’s possible. I do not want to give all of those ex-criminals false hope.”

“Was it really _your_ idea?” Gamora asked. “Your timing was...interesting. A little convenient, even.”

“It was,” Mantis promised. “But Ego accelerated the project’s timeline so that he would have another source of...well.” She nodded towards the unconscious captives around them with a sad smile. “Like I promised, I will explain everything when we are back with the others.”

“They sure are taking their time,” Gamora sighed, though she supposed she couldn’t blame them. Evacuating an entire planet wasn’t exactly an everyday task, though if they had the Nova Corps on their side -

“Hey! Hey, Gam!” Rocket’s voice crackled through Gamora’s communicator. “Gamora, you there? Mantis doing okay?”

“Yes, Rocket, we’re both here!” Gamora exclaimed immediately, unhitching the device from her belt and bringing it to her mouth. “Give me an update.”

“Not lookin’ great,” Rocket admitted. “We can’t get a hold of the Nova Corps. No clue why.”

Gamora furrowed her brow. “Do you think...could Ego be awake somehow?” she whispered to Mantis, who shook her head vehemently. “Rocket, please tell me you’ve got a solution.”

“Quill called the Asgardians like we were originally gonna do, they’re almost here,” Rocket promised. “Palace is already all packed up - what can I say, that Kraglin’s a real efficient dude. He’s got ships goin’ out to send emergency resources across the planet so everyone can get movin’ once the Asgardian vessels arrive. We’ve got another ship on our way to you for all those creepy zombies, and we’re gonna follow in the Milano and sit tight with you guys until the planet’s all clear. Then...well, then it’s take-off.”

Gamora let out a sigh of relief. “That all sounds good. Thank you, Rocket,” she added sincerely.

Rocket scoffed. “Don’t thank me yet, we got a while to go. Rocket, out.”

Another agonizingly long ten minutes passed before a ship touched down right outside the mouth of the cave, with a dozen guard members streaming in to help move the comatose people onboard. Gamora watched uneasily as their lifeless bodies were slung over the guards’ shoulders and strapped in the back. She lifted the communicator to her mouth again, turning away from the disturbing sight. “Rocket? Peter? Is anyone there? They’re evacuating the cave now, are you close?”

To Gamora’s surprise, it was Nebula who answered. “Rocket and Quill are piloting the ship right now. If we don’t crash first, we should be there in ten minutes.”

Gamora frowned. “Crash?”

There was a sharp crackling noise as Nebula stood and walked closer to the cockpit. “Look, I’ve been flyin’ this rig for _years_ now - ”

“ - and I was cybernetically engineered to fly _anything_ , so what’s your point, humie?”

“Oh, great, now you’re throwin’ slurs around now, that’s real nice - ”

“ - how’s that any better than you callin’ me a _rat_ five minutes ago?!”

“I’m not liking our chances,” Nebula said dryly.

Gamora groaned, shaking her head. “Can you pass me over to Peter?”

Another horrible screeching sound, then - “Gamora! Gamora, hey, how’re you and Mantis holding up?”

A large rumble surged behind her, causing Gamora to turn around, watching as the guard’s ship took off, once again leaving her and Mantis alone. She shivered a little from the blast. “The guards just left with all of the victims on board. Mantis and I are fine, though can you _please_ save the bickering for another time?”

“Oh, so you heard all of that,” Peter said sheepishly. “Sorry, Rocket’s just being a real jerk right now - ”

“HAH!”

“ _Peter_ ,” Gamora said sternly. “Both of you, _shut up_ and get everyone here in one piece, okay? We don’t have time for childish behavior, especially if you have everyone’s lives in _your_ hands.”

“Tell that to _him_ ,” Peter grumbled. “By the way, all the capitals are cleared out already, they’re on to the towns and rural areas. Planet should be all clear in less than an hour.”

“That’s impressive,” Gamora commented, smiling a little, relieved. “We’ll have to find some way to repay the Asgardians for their help. That’s a big endeavor, even for a force as large as theirs.”

“We’ll think of somethin’,” Peter promised, pausing. “Does it...does it help if I keep talking? Maybe if you put Mantis on, I can talk to her, too.”

Gamora swallowed her disappointment down. As much as she wanted to keep listening to his voice, it wouldn’t do him any good if he were distracted. “No, you should concentrate on piloting the ship. We’ll see you soon.”

“Alright,” Peter said reluctantly. “Star-Lord, out.” Gamora chuckled to herself, letting the communicator linger against her mouth before tucking it back into her belt pouch.

* * *

Only moments later, Kraglin received an update from his guards on the ground, informing him that an astonishing seventy-five percent of the planet had already been emptied out, and were on their way to Asgard. “That Heimdall fella must be real powerful,” Kraglin commented, genuinely impressed. “We got a good chunk of ‘em over there already.”

“Awesome. Now if only we could fly faster,” Peter said, tapping rapidly at the console in front of him as if it would make a difference. “I don’t like being away from Mantis for this long, especially with her holding Dad down. He could come back any second.”

“Stop thinkin’ about it and just fly, Quill!” Rocket demanded, leaning over to swat Peter’s hands away from the screens. “If you’d let me tinker with this hunk of junk a few weeks ago like I asked - ”

“Don’t call her a piece of junk!” Peter snapped. “No one gets to touch the Milano ‘cept me and Yondu, you got that?”

“ _Boys_ ,” Nebula interrupted sharply. “You do realize I’m going to tell Gamora about all of your petty squabbles, don’t you?” Peter and Rocket promptly went quiet, though they were still seething at each other in silence. Nebula smirked triumphantly.

It didn’t last for long, though, a sudden ominous cracking noise erupting from below them. It was shallow, almost quiet at first, before roaring into a rumbling storm. The ship swerved sharply through the air, rolling upside down and jerking back and forth like it was possessed, as the sudden winds started throwing them around. Nebula, who had been standing, tumbled over and slammed into the wall with a sickening crunch, while Rocket was nearly yanked out of his seat from the gravitational pull. Groot quickly snatched Nebula up and buckled her in, his branches growing outwards to brace the entire cockpit.

“What the hell is goin’ on?!” Peter shouted over the commotion.

“You guys ever have earthquakes like this before?” Rocket asked, pulling himself back up.

“No, Dad controls...Dad controls the entire ecosystem,” Peter said slowly. He turned to look at Yondu, whose eyes were blown wide in realization. “ _Crap, he’s awake_!”

It was as if the floodgates opened the moment Peter spoke, the ship slamming about like they were in a pinball machine, everyone holding on to Groot’s extended branches for dear life as Peter and Rocket attempted to recalibrate the ship’s navigation. The winds picked up, louder and louder, practically howling as dust began swirling up from the desert beneath them, obscuring their vision. An alarm began blaring through the ship’s speakers, alerting them to a blown engine and a damaged wing.

“We gotta set ‘er down, Quill! We can’t get to the girls with all of this goin’ on!” Rocket hollered over the persistent siren.

“No! We have to save them, they’re in trouble!” Peter yelled back.

“We try to get to ‘em, we’re not gonna have a ship to leave in!” Rocket snapped.

“Then you’re not the amazing pilot you said you were!” Peter retorted. Groaning, Rocket rubbed agitatedly at his temples before gripping the steering once more, grumbling under his breath in resignation. Peter grinned, victorious, before turning back to his own position. They could do this. They _had_ to do this.

Another few terrifying minutes passed as Peter and Rocket attempted to navigate the storm, Groot rapidly growing more and more in an attempt to stabilize the entire ship despite its growing list of issues. The others could only sit and hold on, trying not to vomit with every new sudden movement. After what felt like hours, they managed to crash right through the mouth of the cave, skidding to a halt a mere fifty feet from the girls. Peter’s heart leaped in horror at the sight before him.

Mantis was laid motionless on her side, blood trickling down her forehead. Gamora was crouched protectively over her, holding her sword high, as tendrils of light swooped down at them, dancing almost mockingly over their heads. There was a skeletal-like figure stood on the top of the large boulder in the middle, as Ego had done before, though it wasn’t talking, or even moving, its vacant eyeholes fixated intensively on Gamora.

“Gamora!” Peter sprinted towards her, his hands outstretched. Almost instinctively, she ducked, allowing Peter to shoot a dense beam of light to block all of Ego’s attacks, reflecting them back onto the walls. Several of them struck the skeleton, causing it to dissipate instantly, though Peter knew that couldn’t possibly be the end. Still, he ran the rest of the way, skidding on his knees in his haste to turn Mantis over. “Mantis...Mantis, wake up!”

“She’ll be okay,” Gamora wheezed, her sword falling to the ground as she clutched her side. “Ego, he suddenly - he came out of nowhere and hit Mantis on the head. He...he got me, too.” Peter’s gaze quickly traveled over Gamora’s body, noting the blood seeping through her tank top and the thigh of her pants, the burns and scrapes on her face and hands. Before he could stop himself, he reached to rest a hand on her stomach wound, disturbed how wet his hand felt as he did. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Gamora promised, placing her hand over his. “I’ll need to treat it later, but I’m fine.”

Swallowing thickly, Peter looked back down at Mantis, who, despite being unconscious, looked better off, aside from the mild wound on her forehead where Ego must have struck her. He gently brushed her hair away from her face, noting the lump beginning to form beside her antennae, but she otherwise had no other visible injuries. “We gotta wake her up, we gotta put Dad back to sleep. We still got a bunch of people left - ”

“Peter.” Gamora trembled. “We need to leave now. I don’t think Mantis is going to wake anytime soon.”

“What’re you - no, we can’t leave yet! There’s still - ”

“We’ll hold out for as long as we can, but I think Mantis needs medical attention before she’ll wake again,” Gamora said gently. “Peter, I don’t like the idea either. But we’ve gotten this far, and we can’t risk our lives, either. Otherwise, _no one_ will be around to take your father down for good.”

“So we’re choosing our own lives over the millions that we’re leaving behind?” Peter’s eyes welled up at the thought.

“We are choosing our own lives to save the _billions_ that Ego is planning to kill,” Gamora said fiercely. “You know I’m right, Peter. So let’s take Mantis and go.”

He looked at her imploringly, a sort of frustrated desperation in his eyes that haunted her. For a split second, she felt her resolve crumble, but she knew this had to be the right call. With a shaky sigh, Peter gave in, sliding his arms under Mantis and hoisting her up, running back to the ship. Drax was already coming down to meet him on the landing ramp, taking Mantis and nodding wordlessly at Peter before carrying her inside to safety.

Gamora, however, hesitated, glancing down at her feet. The light was beginning to swirl dangerously between the cracks in the ground. “Gamora?” Peter called. “You said we gotta go, so let’s go.”

She drew her sword once more, though her hands were unsteady. “He’s coming back any minute now.”

“Gamora…” Peter said slowly, taking a few measured steps towards her. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“I said we have to hold out for as long as we can. That means someone has to stay behind.” She gave him a wan smile.

Peter felt the breath get knocked out of him once more for what had to be the hundredth time that day. “No way.”

“How else is this going to get done, Peter?” Gamora said exasperatedly. Her voice was shaking, too.

Peter ran back to her, gripping her shoulders a little too tightly. “This is a team effort,” he repeated. “So, no, Gamora, I’m not leaving you behind. Not again, and not to die.”

“This isn’t up for debate, Peter - ”

“ _Please_ ,” Peter begged. “I know I said I wouldn’t ever make you do anything you don’t wanna do. But if I have to pick you up and carry you onto the ship myself, I’ll...I’ll do it.” He choked out a sob. “Gamora, _please_. I can’t do this without you.”

A sudden blast of light shot up from beneath her, curling around her waist and hoisting her up high in the air, nearly crushing her into the ceiling from the sheer momentum. Gamora let out a terrified cry, her sword clattering to the ground in shock. Peter instinctively jumped as if to grab her, but was stopped by another light winding its way around his ankles, anchoring him down.

“Oh, Peter, Peter, Peter.” Chills went up Peter’s spine at the sound of Ego’s voice, though he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was resonating off every wall, causing the Milano to rattle noisily behind him. “Like father, like son, isn’t it? I never thought you would find a girl who meant as much to you as Meredith did to me, but here we are. Or I guess _I_ was the one who found your wife. I made a good choice, didn’t I?”

Peter held up his hands on the defense, light pulsing from his own palms. “You didn’t care about Mom, you _killed_ her,” he growled. “Let Gamora go.”

A blinding flash surged before Peter, causing him to stumble back, falling onto his behind. A new, skeletal-like figure emerged from the light, its muscles knitting themselves together underneath its bones with every step it took. Then eyeballs, then teeth, then nails, notably lacking skin and hair. It looked like something out of a bad horror movie. “I killed her _because_ I loved her, Peter,” Ego said patiently, almost mockingly. “And now, _you_ have to make that choice, too. After all, if you’re trying to ‘defeat’ me or whatever it is you’re attempting to do here - and failing, I might add - tell me, how much does Gamora _really_ mean to you?”

Peter wrenched his ankles out of the light’s grasp with an agonized shout, desperately crawling backward until his back hit the wall. “If you loved Mom, you would’ve found a way to be with her,” he panted. “Why didn’t you ask her if she wanted to come here with you instead? What was so goddamn important that you had to put a _tumor in her brain_?!”

“I just don’t think she would’ve understood,” Ego shrugged, advancing slowly. “You see, Peter, millions of years ago, when I first came into being, I found myself wandering for millennia, seeking life. But everything I came across...was disappointing. And so I knew, right then and there, that my true purpose...it was not to walk among that life. It was to recreate the universe.” He extended a skeletal hand in peace. “Peter, I will forgive you and your sister for everything you’ve done here tonight. I’ll even let Gamora go, and let you be with her if that’s what you want. I just need you to be on my side. _You_ are the only one of my spawn to have a connection to the light. I need _you_ to make the Expansion possible.”

Peter looked up at the ceiling, where Gamora was struggling fruitlessly, the light tightening more and more with every second, digging into her flesh. She let out another startled cry as it curled back around itself, winding around her throat and squeezing. Gamora began to choke, her eyes tearing up as she gasped for air. Swallowing, Peter turned back to Ego, narrowing his eyes.

“You’ll forgive _me_ , huh? That’s funny, because I will _never_ forgive you. You know why?” Peter struggled to his feet. “You’re hurting my wife. You’ve been abusing my sister. And you killed my mother.”

With a determined shout, Peter lifted both his hands and blasted with all his might, aiming a stream of light at Ego’s skeleton, and using the other to carry the Godslayer up to Gamora. She weakly grasped her sword, just barely wrapping her fingers around its hilt, before slashing through the light beneath her. It vanished, causing her to go tumbling through the air, before landing neatly on her feet right beside Peter. Gamora hesitated for a split second before taking a running leap forward, driving her sword straight through Ego’s heart. The skeleton dissolved, spraying them both in silt, and in a flash of light, he was gone once more.

Gamora practically collapsed into Peter’s side the moment Ego disappeared, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. There were new welts in her throat and face, and cuts all over her clothes, exposing raw skin and oozing blood. “P - Peter...the ship, _now_.”

Peter quickly lifted her into his arms and sprinted towards the Milano without another backward glance. The sound of Gamora’s chest rattling with every breath she took was starting to scare him. “Rocket, get us in the air!” he hollered the second he stepped foot onto the deck.

“What just happened?” Rocket exclaimed, twisting around in his seat. Nebula shot up the second she laid eyes on her sister, immediately running to her side.

“We can’t - we can’t stay, we - we gotta go - Kraglin, tell your men to keep evacuatin’, but it’s their call on when they wanna leave, too, they can’t - ”

“We couldn’t see what was goin’ on,” Kraglin said, brow furrowed. “What happened with your dad, Pete?”

“He’s gonna come back,” Peter said, still attempting to catch his breath. “Mantis and Gamora, we gotta take care of ‘em, we need to get people off this planet, we...we hafta…”

Peter only just managed to set Gamora down on the blankets Drax had laid out for her before his knees buckled underneath him. Yondu was by his side in an instant, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Breathe, boy,” Yondu murmured. “Let me take care of the people, alright? You look after your girls. They need you.”

“The whole _planet_ needs me, Yondu, and I failed,” Peter whispered, looking up. Mantis was still unconscious, laid out on her makeshift bed, while Gamora was struggling for air beside her. Nebula snatched the oxygen mask Kraglin was offering her right out of his hands and pulled it over her sister’s face, looking unusually grim.

“Go sit in your bunk for a minute, Quill,” Yondu said, squeezing his shoulders. “I don’t want you lookin’ out none of these windows when we take off, okay? You don’t need to see this. I’ll call you back out when we’re outta the atmosphere.”

Defeated, Peter slowly got to his feet and made his way down the corridor. This was only just the beginning of the end, but Peter felt like they had already lost.

* * *

Fifteen minutes in isolated silence later, Peter emerged from his bunk at Yondu’s request, promising they had officially left Ego behind and were on their way to Asgard to look after the survivors. Notably, Yondu didn’t mention how many people were still left, only that Gamora was in stable condition and needed company.

Peter felt numb as he made his way into the common area of the ship, taking a cursory glance out the vantage window to see nothing but the endless void of space. Drax was tending to Mantis in the kitchenette, who was awake, if a little drowsy. Groot was sat beside Gamora on one of the benches, rubbing her back comfortingly. He stood when he saw Peter approaching, nodding gravely at him before moving to join Drax.

Peter pulled the first aid kit out of its respective cabinet before kneeling wordlessly in front of Gamora, setting the kit down on his lap. It seemed almost too trivial to bother, considering her body modifications were going to do most of the work, but he needed to keep his mind and body busy, no matter how badly his hands shook. He slowly unwound the gauze from its roll, staring up at her in silent plea. Gamora blinked in confusion for a moment before realizing what he wanted, slowly peeling off her pants so he could tend to her leg wound. The blood was already drying, darkening in color, with bruising up and down her legs.

“Dumb question,” Peter said, hushed. It felt inappropriate to speak above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“Are _you_?” Gamora countered. He only shrugged aimlessly in response, gently lifting her foot to rest it on his leg so he could reach the underside of her thigh, starting with a damp cloth so he could clean the wound. She hissed a little at the unexpected warmth of the towel. “You’re bleeding, too.”

“It’s...it’s fine.” Peter quickly readjusted the hem of his T-shirt to hide the scrape along his torso. He hesitated as he picked up the antibiotic cream, wondering if they were just going to throw their physical boundaries out the window. “Do you wanna do this part?” Gamora held up her taped fingers, courtesy of Drax. “Right, another stupid question.” Peter deposited a little on the palm of his hand before slowly massaging it into her skin. It stung, burning hot, but Gamora tried to focus on the feeling of Peter’s skin instead. As trivial as it seemed, the physical contact was almost familiar by now. She remembered the way the blisters of his palms felt against her own hands, and now he was practically knelt between her legs, rubbing circles into her thigh. She shivered, mentally reminding herself not to get too distracted.

“You don’t look fine.” Gamora watched as Peter began wrapping the gauze around her leg, completely uneven; it was too loose on the underside of her leg, and too tight as he looped it back around. He paused, lifting his head to finally meet her eyes. Gamora couldn’t take her gaze off the large gash on his cheek, the bruising forming around his left eye, his split lip.

“Well, how else am I s’posed to feel, Gamora? Over the last six hours, I learned that my Dad murdered _thousands_ of my siblings that I didn’t know existed, that he was forcing Mantis to help him since she was a kid, that he’s been trafficking refugees into a battle slave trade, and that he killed my mother because, in his own _twisted_ way, he thinks he loved her. Oh, yeah, and I just left millions of my people behind to _die_ because I couldn’t fight him back.” Peter let out a hysterical laugh. It was awful, and hollow, and all wrong. “You know, I’d never seen anyone die before. Not until you killed those Kree soldiers at our wedding. I wasn’t even thinkin’ about it at the time, because all I could think about is how you were bleedin’ out right next to me, but...how do you get over something like that? How does that become...normal?”

“It doesn’t,” Gamora said quietly. “I don’t _feel_ normal when I take a life, I just feel numb.”

“And I meant what I said before, how I can’t do this without you. But it also made me think, what would’ve happened if you never showed up here? Would I _ever_ start giving a shit about somethin’ other than myself?” Peter tucked in the last of her bandages, throwing the gauze roll back into the first aid kit a little too forcefully. “Maybe I would’ve just let everything happen. Keep pretending my dad wasn’t seriously messed up.”

“I don’t believe that.” Gamora shook her head adamantly. “The very first day we met, I told you why I came here, and despite everything, you decided to help me. You said that...that you were no hero, but you would do whatever you could to help. You’ve never given me reason to believe otherwise.”

Peter turned away from her. “Sounds like you believe in me more than I believe in myself.”

“Don’t think like that, okay? We need to focus,” Gamora insisted, reaching for him. “We have to go back to Ego after we’ve made sure everyone is settled on Asgard. We have to finish this, once and for all.” When Peter didn’t respond, Gamora firmly patted his chest. “Peter, listen to me.”

“I’ve _been_ listening to you!” Peter suddenly shot to his feet, sending the first aid kit clattering against the floor. “And look where it’s gotten us, Gamora!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t tell if you’re thanking me or blaming me for everything that’s happened. And believe me, I won’t apologize for trying to accomplish the impossible. I couldn’t possibly stand by and let Ego and Thanos go.”

“I’m not blaming you, I just - ” Peter groaned, spinning on his heel as he rubbed agitatedly at his temples. “This whole time you’ve been here, people keep tellin’ me you seem to be making me a better person. And I think they’re right. But at what cost? How many people are we gonna lose today because we decided to get involved?”

Gamora would have stood to stare him dead in the eye, if not for the searing pain in her leg. “My only goal this entire time was to stop our fathers from destroying the universe. I am not here to make _your_ life meaningful, and I am not here to make _you_ a better person. If you have a problem with my priorities, you should have said so a _long_ time ago. And if your...feelings towards me are clouding your judgment, then let them go.”

Peter scoffed. “So, what, I should’ve left you to _die_ just now?”

“It would have saved the millions of people you keep prioritizing over the _billions_ we’ve already saved!” Gamora snapped. “You keep choosing the one over the many, Peter. Face it. You can’t be objective.”

“You want me to apologize for caring about people?” Peter said incredulously. “That ain’t gonna happen. Don’t make me regret including you, too.”

With that, he stalked out of the room, giving Mantis a tight smile of acknowledgment before leaving. Gamora let out a frustrated cry, pounding her fist against the wall behind her. _We don’t have time for this_ , she thought desperately. _We’re running_ out _of time._

* * *

Yondu found Peter in his bunk a few minutes later laying on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow. “Why do I feel like the only time we get to talk alone nowadays is after you have a fight with your missus?”

“Sorry, Yondu,” Peter mumbled, pushing himself up into a seated position. “Please tell me you didn’t hear all of that just now.”

“Kinda hard not to. You both got a pair of lungs on ya,” Yondu sighed, sitting beside him. “Why you tryin’ to turn all of your problems on her all of a sudden? I thought you liked her, boy.”

“I do, _so_ much.” Peter pulled his knees into his chest, looking more like a young child than a grown man. “But you can’t deny things got way weirder once she showed up.”

“Sure. And better, too,” Yondu nodded. “Without her, Ego woulda killed or tortured more people. You and Mantis continue to sit pretty on your thrones instead of doin’ something about it, and hell - I’ve been the biggest coward this whole damn time. I let that man hurt you both, over and over again. I brought kids to him for the slaughter. For _years_. That’s gonna sit with me for a while. That’s not somethin’ I can forgive myself for too easy.”

“Dad would’ve killed you if you tried to stop him,” Peter protested.

“And that’s the price I’d pay if I got to take that bastard down with me,” Yondu growled. “For a kid who claims to understand people, you still don’t seem so good at understandin’ Gamora.” Peter frowned, gesturing for him to continue. “Now, you know I don’t talk about it much, but me and her, we got some similarities. Both grew up slaves. Can’t be close to other people, can’t speak up, can’t make our own choices. We went through our childhoods thinkin’ our lives weren’t worth savin’. Seein’ you value her life over the lives of your people, that’s not somethin’ she can understand just yet. So instead of blaming the millions we left behind on _her_ choices, why don’t you try an’ see where she’s coming from?”

Peter hung his head in defeat. “Part of me thinks that we’re no good for each other. Like we’re causing all this destruction for nothing but think we’re doing the right thing, and it...it freaks me out.” He barely spoke above a whisper. “Is it bad that I’m thinkin’ about it like that?”

“Oh, hell, Quill, everyone’s got their issues,” Yondu scoffed. “But in the end, I think you’re leading each other down the right path. So buck up, go apologize to Gamora, and let’s get this job done. Clock’s tickin’, and Ego’s waitin’.”

* * *

To Peter’s disappointment, once he and Yondu stepped out to join the others in the cockpit again, Gamora was already preoccupied in conversation over the communication console, leaving his apology for another time. “We had to execute a change of plans at the very last second, Father. I was going to contact you after we were out of Ego’s orbit without the risk of him sending his guard after us.”

“I don’t believe you.” Thanos’s voice sent chills up Peter’s spine. “Why would you risk losing the Celestial source of power? You and I both know the consequences of Ego’s demise.”

“Ego’s pride is far too great for him to take his own life,” Gamora said, barely glancing over at Peter as he fully entered the room. “It was a necessary demonstration of my power. He was beginning to think I was disposable, so I showed him otherwise.”

“Then you ran away from him. What does that prove of your strength?” Thanos sneered.

“During my time on Ego, all he ever did was refer to me as the wife of his son. Now, he will only remember me as a daughter of Thanos,” Gamora said cooly, leaning back in her seat. “Ego will bend to our will. After all, my husband is in my possession.”

“You’re holding the Celestial son hostage?” Thanos almost sounded impressed.

“Along with Ego’s daughter. She is the only one who can maintain his sanity,” Gamora continued. “I also have his advisor and the head of his guard. The only allies he has left are his commonfolk, who lack the training and the knowledge to help him. He will come asking for a trade soon enough. And then his powers will be of great service to you in your search for the Infinity Stones.”

Thanos let out a low, sinister chuckle. “I should never doubt you, child.” Gamora wrinkled her nose in silent disgust. “We meet on Titan in twelve hours. I have to make a detour first. Prepare your prisoners for what is to come.”

“Yes, Father,” Gamora said obediently. The console blinked to signify the end of the call. She exhaled with a sort of determination, turning towards the others. “I bought us some time. Let’s not waste it.”

She got to her feet, crossing the room with a slight limp so she could pull down the screens over the table, opening up maps and contact sheets. “You really think Thanos would keep his word?” Nebula said uncertainly. “He could be on his way to us right _now_.”

“Which is why we have to get moving,” Gamora said testily, gesturing at the screens before her. “Now stop standing around and _help_.”

The minutes dragged on in tense silence as everyone scanned through everything they had - every document, every picture, every contact they had ever made over the last three months. Someone would occasionally speak up with an idea, barely a concept, only to get shot down almost instantly. Finally, after an hour had gone by with no solution in sight, Gamora called for a break. “I need everyone performing at their best. Go eat. Sleep if you have to,” she ordered. “Come back in an hour with something that actually works.”

Peter ducked in to grab Gamora’s attention as she stepped into the kitchenette, his hand quickly catching the fridge door as she opened it. “Hey, listen, can we talk? About earlier?” She promptly slammed the door shut, nearly catching his fingers in the process. “ _Ah_ \- okay, I deserved that. But I just need to get some stuff off my chest. I was a big, selfish jerk, and I wanna fix it.”

Gamora briefly rolled her eyes to the heavens, her grip tightening on the water bottle she’d grabbed, before gesturing for him to follow her to the back of the ship so they could sit on the bench. “Talk,” she said tersely, taking a sip.

“Okay, so...the way I feel about you...the _feelings_ I have for you...they’re complicated. And I’m never gonna be objective. I’m never gonna be able to make the call that hurts you. Even when you ask me to, I just...I freeze up. I can’t do it.” Peter glanced down at his lap, not wanting to see Gamora’s expression. “Maybe that makes me a bad leader after all. But I can’t apologize for caring, because that’s just who I am. I care about _all_ of you, even _your_ people, though they do kinda scare me sometimes. I’m not sorry about that. But I _am_ sorry that I made it sound like my problems are your fault. Because this isn’t about me. This whole saving-the-world thing isn’t about me, it’s not about making _me_ better or saving _my_ life. You came to us so you could save the whole damn universe, and it’s...you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I just wish I could make the decisions that you can. And I shouldn’t blame you because I can’t.”

Gamora didn’t speak for a moment, staring at her own hands in contemplation, before reaching over to take Peter’s, squeezing tight. “You’re far more mature than I think anyone gives you credit for,” she said quietly. “And you’re far more capable than you think you are. We may be complete opposites, Peter, but I think it’s why we make good leaders _together_. I think with my head, and you think with your heart.” She smiled. “So give yourself some credit, okay? And...my feelings for you are complex as well. But we can talk about that another time. _If_ we make it out of this.”

“ _When_ we make it out of this,” Peter corrected, grinning. “Don’t jinx it.”

She continued to smile, pulling one hand away from their intertwined fingers so she could brush an unruly curl out of Peter’s face. “You should really eat. Take a nap if you can.”

“Same goes for you, too,” he insisted. “Hell, we’re gonna have to sleep for at least fifty hours after all this is over.”

“I think the others have already taken up the spare bunks,” she said, frowning.

“Oh, well then in that case, you can use - ” Before he could finish his sentence, the entire ship suddenly jerked sideways, accompanied by a loud crash against its side, sending them both flying to the floor. Peter’s head struck the metal grate beneath them, while Gamora’s instincts managed to keep her mostly upright at the last second.

“Peter! Are you okay?” Gamora barely had time to grab his shoulder and turn him over before the ship rattled again, nearly tossing them into the wall. She grasped desperately for her communicator, using her other arm to apply pressure to Peter’s fresh head wound before he could bleed out. “Rocket, tell me you know what’s happening.”

Silence. Then: “Gamora...he’s here.”

A sharp, high-pitched frequency blared through the entire ship. Gamora let out a cry of pain, momentarily lifting her hands to cover her ears as she attempted to pull a half-conscious Peter upright.

“Gamora. I’ve changed my mind.”

Gamora felt as if her heart was going to pulsate right out of her chest. “Father, I - ”

“You will board Sanctuary with your sister and your husband if you want the rest of your companions to be spared.” His voice echoed throughout the entire cabin, every word so crisp that it was like he was standing right over her. “I know your true intentions, daughter. You may be on the run from Ego, but you can’t run from _me_.”

* * *

Gamora trembled as she piloted the Milano’s escape pod to Sanctuary, barely noticing Peter and Nebula’s silent presence behind her. They were received by one of Thanos’s Chitauri soldiers immediately, slapped in chained cuffs on their wrists and ankles, before being led through the massive spacecraft to the throne room. It was just as dark, just as barren, just as _cold_ as every other space that Thanos commanded. Every step echoed off the craggy walls and cracked floors, every breath shuddering and shivering with every movement.

Peter’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of Thanos as he turned away from the throne to stare them down. Peter guessed he had to be at least nine feet tall, making his adult daughters look positively juvenile in comparison. He bore a simple suit of armor, complete with a helmet, and on his left arm, the Infinity Gauntlet. Gamora swallowed down the bile rising in her throat when she realized he had acquired the Power Stone and the Reality Stone in her absence.

“I have many questions to ask of you, Gamora,” Thanos said, his dark eyes fixating on her. “I sent Korath to retrieve the Power Stone in Morag two months ago. Though I eventually found it myself in the Nova Corps’ possession, I have not been able to find _Korath_ ever since. Even the other Children have failed to locate him. Where is he?”

“He was hired by Ego to infiltrate our wedding,” Gamora replied. “To prove my loyalty to the Celestial throne, I had to take him out, along with the rest of his Kree soldiers, to protect my husband. Ego only trusted me _after_ that incident.”

“Yet in all our correspondence since then, you only bring it up now. How convenient,” Thanos sneered. “You also said Ego thought of you as disposable. Which one is it?”

“It is both, and neither. He’s an impulsive being. His feelings waver,” Gamora said evenly.

“Then we can’t trust him,” Thanos concluded. He turned his gaze to Peter. “And your husband?”

“My loyalty lies with your daughter, sir,” Peter half-stammered. “I don’t agree with my dad’s policies or his behavior.”

“Your usefulness relies on his very existence. Why did you attempt a siege on your own planet?” Thanos snarled, glaring at them both. “Gamora, I hope you realize by now that if Ego dies, your husband no longer serves any purpose.”

“With your permission, Father. I would prefer to keep him in my company regardless. He’s proven to be an innovative fighter and strategist, and his influence with the intergalactic councils makes him an invaluable asset.” Gamora bowed her head in false submission.

Thanos smirked. “You’ve become attached.”

“No, I’ve learned from _you_ , Father. ‘Not everything can be won by force, but by cleverness’,” she quoted. “The Nova Corps listen to me because they listen to him. Killing him would be the wrong move. Utilizing his political power may even be of more use to us than his Celestial abilities ever would.”

Thanos finally sat back down on his throne, looking at her inquisitively. “You continue to impress me, Gamora. I always said you would take my place in this chair one day.” He waved for the Chitauri to remove their chains. “There are two more Infinity Stones on Terra. We move on them tomorrow after I acquire the Space Stone from another subordinate who has...failed me.” His lip curled in distaste. “Return to your quarters, daughters. You may take your husband with you, Gamora. Do with him as you wish.”

“I will, Father. Thank you,” Gamora nodded. With one last worried glance at Nebula, who had remained unmoving, emotionless the entire time, Gamora gestured for Peter to follow her out of the room.

* * *

“Well, that was super fun,” Peter drawled as Gamora shut the door behind them. “Always _love_ talkin’ to your dad. What do we do now?”

“We tell the others to return to Ego and check the status of those who remain, see if they can do a second wave of evacuations,” Gamora sighed, sinking onto her bunk. “In the meantime, we play along with Thanos for as long as possible, until we can finally take out your father for good. But now that he has two Infinity Stones...I don’t know if we’ll be able to escape.”

“So we could be stuck here forever?” Peter sat beside her, looking despondent.

“The Nova Corps are probably out of commission if Thanos took the Power Stone from them, but we have other connections who can help us.” Gamora cupped Peter’s face reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Peter. This isn’t where we die.”

“Yeah, sure, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.” Still, Peter placed his hand over hers, holding it against his cheek. He turned his head slightly to press a kiss into her palm. Her cheeks warmed.

“I should call the Milano and give them their orders,” Gamora said, reluctantly pulling away. “You should get some sleep.”

“Fine, but once you’re done, you’re joining me,” Peter insisted.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we share my bed?”

“Maybe?” It came out more like a question. “Only if you want to! It doesn’t have to mean anything, I just thought - ”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised, smiling. “I should also check with Nebula after I call the Milano. I imagine she’s angry with me. She _hates_ being here, even more than I do.”

“Isn’t she _always_ mad at you?” Peter snorted as Gamora got to her feet. To his surprise, instead of chastising him, she slowly bent forward to kiss his temple, right on top of the bandage he’d applied to his recent head wound.

“Don’t wait up for me. _Rest_ , Peter.” She gave him one last warm, pretty smile before ducking out of the room. Despite the turmoil of fear, anger, and physical and mental pain stirring in Peter’s being, he couldn’t help but be comforted by the knowledge that he wasn’t here alone.

* * *

Gamora made herself scarce in a secluded corridor a good distance away from the private quarters, curling up on the floor and pulling out her communicator. “Is anyone there? This is Gamora reporting in. We’re all okay on Sanctuary, but we won’t be returning anytime soon,” she whispered.

“Is Thanos holding you captive?” Drax asked intently.

“Not exactly. I’ve thrown him off our trail for now and convinced him of Peter’s relevance to his insane plan, so we should be safe. But I need you to return to Ego and help evacuate and destroy the planet once and for all.”

“We also got a call from that Heimdall dude.” It was Rocket who spoke this time. “Said all of Quill’s people are already there and settled in. You did good, Gam.”

Gamora let out a sigh of relief. “At least one thing is going right today. Did you finish building that bomb?”

“Y’know, it hurts when you think I haven’t,” Rocket scoffed. “Of course I did. Groot’s lookin’ after it.”

“You better hurry,” Gamora murmured. “Thanos now has the Reality Stone and the Power Stone, which was apparently with the Nova Corps. That’s probably why they weren’t responding to you before. And he’s in pursuit of someone who possesses another. I suspect Prince Loki of Asgard could be in trouble. Notify Heimdall and make sure he’s protected and that he’s kept away from Asgard; otherwise, transporting all of Peter’s people there would be for nothing.”

“And what will _you_ do, Gamora? When will you return to us?” Drax said, worried.

“I have to keep Thanos happy while we wait for you to complete the job, and make sure nothing happens to Nebula and Peter,” Gamora said firmly. “Try not to contact us unless it’s an absolute emergency, we’re going to go dark so he doesn’t suspect anything. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“You look after my boy, Gamora,” Yondu ordered. “And take care of yourself and your sister, too.”

Gamora couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Yondu. And I will. On both counts.”

After she switched the communicator off and stashed it back on her belt, she made her way through the daunting halls of Sanctuary. It had been three months since she’d been here, and despite living here for so long, it had never felt like home. She knew now what a _real_ home felt like.

Gamora rapped her knuckles gently on Nebula’s door, warily glancing around the hallway in curiosity, wondering if the other Children were home. “Nebula, it’s me,” she called. “I just want to talk.” When she didn’t get an immediate response - she expected, at best, a shout of anger, something being thrown at the door - she knocked again. “Sister, please. I know you didn’t want to come back here, but it was our only choice.” Silence. Sighing, Gamora turned the doorknob, surprised to find that the room wasn’t locked. “Nebula? I - oh.”

Nebula’s room was empty (well, more empty than usual). Her boots were still sitting by the door, her bedsheets thrown haphazardly across the floor, almost like she’d been - Gamora’s blood ran cold. _Like she’d been taken_. She glanced around wildly, her eyes landing on the dent in the doorframe, in the perfect shape of someone’s fingers, someone with steel grip.

Gamora bolted out into the corridor, sprinting towards her own room, only to find the door crushed inwards, dark burn marks tracked all over the walls and ceiling like someone had lit a fire, or maybe...shot a beam of light. “Peter!” she gasped, spinning on her heel, looking around desperately for a sign of where to go. “Peter? Nebula?”

“Oh, daughter.” Thanos chuckled as he emerged from the shadows, seemingly out of nowhere. “You have grown so soft in your time away. Why don’t you join me?”

“What did you do to them?” Gamora ran at him with the intent to attack, though Thanos merely grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her alongside him. She dug her heels into the ground, gritting her teeth in pain as the wounds in her leg and torso flared up again, but to no avail; he was much too strong. “Tell me! What did you to do them?!”

“Be patient, Gamora. You’ll see.”

Thanos practically dragged her all the way to the throne room, shoving her in front of him as they entered. She stared up in horror at the sight of Peter and Nebula, suspended from the ceiling, their limbs splayed apart. Nebula’s cybernetics were spread open, exposed for everyone to see, twitching like a raw nerve. Peter, meanwhile, was half-conscious, his head wound bleeding once more, light sparking from his body at random. “Gamora,” he croaked, lifting his head halfway in an attempt to look at her, though it seemed like he had no strength in his neck, or really his body, at all.

“Why are you doing this?” Gamora ran to them immediately, reaching to lay a gentle hand on both of their faces. She turned to look at Thanos, who was watching her patiently. “I speak the truth, Father, I have been nothing but loyal to you.”

“Do you love them, Gamora?” When she could only stare at him in disbelief, he merely smiled. “I asked you a question. Answer me. Do you love them?”

“I did as you asked, I am _doing_ as you asked. Please, let them go.” Gamora’s eyes stung with unshed tears as she brushed her thumbs across their cheeks before finally pulling away. “Hurting them will only break my allegiance to you.”

“So you do,” Thanos hummed. “You see, Gamora, I picked up another straggler in space while you were off making your call to your companions.” Gamora shivered as he brandished the Infinity Gauntlet, now boasting a third stone - the Space Stone. “And thanks to the Maw, we discovered not only _where_ the Soul Stone is, but how to get it.”

“I fail to see why this led you to torture them.” Gamora felt something wet fall on her face. She wiped it off, bringing it up to her eyeline. Turning, she realized it was a drop of blood from Peter’s mouth.

“It requires a sacrifice...of someone you love.” Thanos looked troubled all of a sudden, though she couldn’t possibly fathom why. “And I wonder, who is it that you love more? Who would you spare, and who would you use to obtain the Soul Stone? I’m of the opinion that we should keep Nebula - it would be a waste of parts to have her destroyed - but you’ve grown so attached to the boy, haven’t you?”

Gamora let out a tearful, hysterical laugh. “So this falls to me, Father? My ultimate purpose, my endgame, is to retrieve the Soul Stone for you. Because you _knew_.”

Thanos paused. “Knew what?”

“That you love nothing. No one.” Gamora took a shaky step towards him, staring him dead in the eye. “When I lived under your rule, even with everything you’ve taught me, I could bring myself to feel for others. For Nebula. But you? You care for no one but yourself.”

“You are gravely mistaken,” Thanos murmured. “Now tell me, daughter, who will you save?”

“It’s okay, Gamora,” Peter mumbled. “Not gonna have my powers soon...you...you save Nebula.”

Gamora’s breath became increasingly shallow as she turned back to look at them. Nebula was dead-eyed, resigned to her fate, like she had already accepted that her fight was over. Peter was growing paler by the second, though his wrists and ankles were increasingly reddened by his restraints, his eyes glazed over in a near-comatose state.

Gamora looked up at Thanos. “You will never know love.”

In one swift movement, she yanked her blade from her belt and drove it into her stomach with a loud cry. Peter and Nebula shouted in anguish, rattling their restraints, as Gamora fell to her knees. “GAMORA!” they yelled in near-perfect unison.

Gamora stuttered out a stilted breath, panting from her efforts, only to look down at her lap and realize her knife had evaporated into dust. She slowly lifted her head to find the Infinity Gauntlet in her face, the Reality Stone casting a red wash over her entire body with its glow.

Thanos lowered his arm. “Clever, but not clever enough,” he said tauntingly. “You’ve exposed yourself, Gamora. You’ve turned on me. And you’ve recruited your sister, your husband, and the rest of your little group to your cause.”

She trembled as Thanos approached her, moving as if to pet her head. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled, crawling away. “I will _never_ give you what you want. I will _never_ hurt them.”

“Then I will have to sacrifice _you_ instead.”

Gamora felt bile rising in her throat once more. “You don’t mean…”

“I always said you were my favorite daughter,” Thanos murmured. “You just didn’t listen.”

“You love nothing, _no one_ ,” Gamora repeated, horrified. “I was told earlier by someone I care about that I have learned love. This isn’t love, _Thanos_. This is convenience. This is _abuse_.”

He loomed over her, gazing at her with a sort of sadness in his eyes. “I’m truly sorry, little one.”

Thanos leaned down to grab her again, though Gamora scrambled backward, her palms scraping against the ground until she was beneath Nebula and Peter’s suspended bodies. Then, her radio crackled to life. “Gamora? Gamora, we got it! Sixty seconds, and he’s deader than dead!”

“What is he talking about?” Thanos growled, snatching her up by the collar of her jacket and shaking her. “ _Tell me, what is he talking about?!_ ”

“Gamora, duck!” Peter shouted hoarsely. She only had a split second to react before Thanos was struck in the face with light, sending him flying backward. Gamora fell to the ground, her blade reforming beside her as Thanos collapsed several feet away, the Reality Stone’s light fading into nothing. She snatched it up and quickly began slicing through Nebula’s restraints, glancing over her shoulder to keep an eye on Thanos. It was only when she moved to help Peter that she saw Thanos get to his feet. “Hey...you should go. I’m gonna be no use to you in ten seconds, anyways.”

“No, I’m not leaving you. This isn’t where we die,” Gamora insisted, reaching for his first restraint, but he only batted her hands away before lifting his towards Thanos.

“You’re one crazy purple bastard, y’know that?” Peter slurred. But before he could activate his Celestial light one last time, he let out an earth-shattering scream of pain, his restraints suddenly vanishing and dropping him to the floor.

Gamora could only watch, numb, in realization that Thanos had activated the Reality Stone and driven Gamora’s blade right through Peter’s stomach. The light was fading rapidly from his body as it finally died out, his mouth falling slightly open as if to cry out again. A sob of agony ripped right through Gamora as she collapsed on top of his body, the blade evaporating the second her head came to rest over his heart.

“It seems like you’ve made your decision after all.” Thanos turned and began striding away, slowly, almost deliberately. “I’ll leave you to mourn, daughter. And then we go to Vormir tonight.”

Nebula, who was half-lying on her side by Gamora’s feet, watched on in despair as her sister wept, cradling Peter’s head in her lap as his eyes rolled back, arms falling limp by his side. “Peter...no…” Gamora wrapped her arms around his shoulders and curled into his side like it would keep him from going cold. Her own heart felt as if it were going to burst as she burrowed her face further into his chest, desperate to hear his pulse. It was there, but only just. He was the quietest he had ever been.

The doors rattled in the distance, but neither sister bothered looking up, assuming it was just Thanos exiting the room, until they suddenly blew inwards, soaring across the room and clattering on the ground. Gamora lifted her head, eyes widening at the last thing she expected to see - Mantis, entirely alone, her hands braced outwards like Peter had done so many times before. She looked absolutely tiny compared to Thanos, who was standing over her, fists clenched in fury.

Mantis merely cocked her head to one side, assessing Thanos as if he were just a particularly interesting cloud in the sky. “You are Thanos?” she said, her voice bubbling with quiet anger. She leaped up in the air before he could respond, landing neatly on his shoulders, her fingers digging into his temples. “Sleep.”

Thanos went crashing down, Mantis’s legs wrapped snugly around his neck. His arms fell to his sides, his fists uncurling as they did, the last of the Infinity Gauntlet’s glow dying out. He wasn’t fully unconscious; the whites of his eyes were still visible, and his legs still twitched feebly behind Mantis’s back, but it was the most vulnerable they had seen him yet.

Mantis looked up, smiling weakly at the sisters, only to let out a startled gasp at the sight of Peter’s body, Gamora still bent protectively over him. “What happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! We're super close to the end of this fic and I am super excited/kinda sad that it's almost over. As I said in the beginning notes, I obviously took some inspiration from _Infinity War_ (this chapter was originally not going to feature as much Thanos as it ended up having), but I also borrowed a little bit of Mantis's backstory from the comics, namely, the Priests of Pama and some of her other powers that we haven't seen in the MCU (as of yet, anyways).
> 
> The last chapter should be up in mid-June, though no guarantees as I've only just started working on it and I'm pretty sure it's going to be the longest one yet. I also have gotten five chapters deep into the next multi-chapter Peter/Gamora AU I'm working on, and will be posting the first chapter of that the week after the last chapter of this and will (hopefully) be posting weekly throughout the summer, so I hope you'll check that one out as well! It's _much_ more light-hearted than this one, since I figured we could all use a little less angst after _Infinity War_.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Nothing ever lasts forever...everybody wants to rule the world…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions and descriptions of blood, injuries, canon-typical violence, torture, and minor character death.

Despite every muscle in her body crying out for relief, the acid building up in her throat, and the persistent ringing in her ears, Gamora felt completely and utterly numb. Her eyes remained fixed on Peter, who was collapsed beneath her, unusually, unmistakably still. “How did - how did you get in here, Mantis?” she managed to choke out, swallowing back the fresh wave of tears she could feel building up in her eyes.

“Rocket gave me one of his aero-rigs and - that doesn’t matter right now. What happened to Peter?” Mantis wanted to get closer, but her grasp on a barely-conscious Thanos was already slipping. “Is he... _please_ , tell me he is alive.”

“Barely. He’s bleeding out, and I...I don’t know. I don’t know what to do next.” Gamora nestled against his chest again, relieved to hear a weak _thump-thump_. It was better than nothing. “Thanos just...stabbed him. Clean through. I’m not sure what organs he hit, but...Mantis, we can’t...we can’t lose him.”

“I might be able to do something,” Mantis offered, her breath trembling as she tore her eyes away from the pool of blood rapidly spreading out beneath her brother’s body. “But I would have to let go of Thanos.”

“You can’t do that,” Gamora said despondently. “He’ll kill _all_ of us the second he’s awake again.”

“Gamora.” She turned around to look at Nebula, who was only just fixing the last of her broken parts, her fingers bending back into place. “We should save Quill.”

“You think I don’t want to?” Gamora snapped. “Mantis can’t let go of Thanos, and we can’t kill him yet.”

“If this is because he claims to love you - ”

“ _Hardly_ ,” Gamora exclaimed, offended. “You know as well as I do how his empire is run, Nebula. We kill him prematurely, and the consequences could be far greater than if we just leave him sedated. Imagine all the wrongs we could reverse if his subordinates knew we had him at our mercy. The other Children would have to listen to _us_. But if we kill him...they won’t be so generous.”

“So after all this time...you _still_ want to have Thanos’s power.” Nebula shook her head. “I’m disappointed in you, sister.”

“I don’t _want_ it. I want to _destroy_ it. Starting with our siblings,” Gamora said fiercely. “Help me or challenge me, Nebula. You choose.”

Nebula’s dark eyes flickered back and forth between Gamora and Mantis, then to Peter, who was growing paler by the second, and finally, to Thanos, who was straining with gritted teeth and furrowed brow against Mantis’s control.

“Then move,” she grunted, crawling over to her sister and unceremoniously shoving her aside. “Weeping over your husband’s body won’t save him. At least try to stop the bleeding, for god’s sake. I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.”

Gamora let out a tearful laugh of relief, watching as Nebula made quick work of peeling off Peter’s coat, then his T-shirt, tearing the shirt into strips and tying them together into one long piece of fabric. Gamora helped lift Peter as Nebula bound the cotton around his torso. “Mantis, you said you could heal him. How?”

“When I was sent to the Priests of Pama, they were very vague about what my new powers were. The only one they made absolutely clear was...regeneration. I might be able to repair his damaged organs and close the wound, but I need organic material to do it.”

“You won’t find any on this ship,” Gamora sighed. She shed her own jacket, ripping off the sleeves so she could use them as a makeshift cloth, wiping the blood off Peter’s face. “It’ll be risky, but we’ll have to move him. Are the others coming back with the Milano now?”

“If Father is dead...yes.” Mantis trembled at the thought. “Has it been done?” Gamora nodded silently, surprised to see a single tear trail down Mantis’s cheek. She sniffled. “I said I would not cry for him. And I am not. I will cry for the people we have lost instead.” She inhaled sharply, letting out a soft hiccup. “There must be something we can do about the Gauntlet. Should we try to remove it, at least? Then Thanos will not be able to wield the other Infinity Stones, even if he gets them.”

Nebula got to her feet, advancing towards him, when there was a _bang_ at the other end of the corridor, followed by a sudden onrush of Chitauri soldiers streaming in. Mantis let out a terrified shriek, curling around Thanos’s head further as she ducked, while Gamora instinctively went for her sword, crouching protectively over Peter’s body. Nebula instantly sprinted headfirst into the crowd, yanking her electrified blades out of her boots and crying out in ferocity.

Gamora stayed back, watching in worry as Nebula easily slashed through the first three assailants, stabbing them clean though and leaving them in a writhing heap on the ground. A particularly large Chitauri pounced, pinning her down with a feral growl. Nebula snarled in return, spitting in its face before driving her fist into its skull and kicking it off, sending it flying back into the onslaught of soldiers and knocking over several more.

“She can’t do this by herself,” Gamora said urgently to Mantis. “You’re already doing so well, and I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, but I need you to look after Peter, too, or else we’re _never_ going to get out of here.”

“Bring him to me,” Mantis said, her voice half-muffled from the way she had buried her face into Thanos’s shoulder in fear. “I will close the wound temporarily. You go help Nebula.”

Gamora winced as she slid her arms underneath Peter’s body and lifted him up - not because he was heavy, she’d dealt with far heavier things before - but because her hands were near-instantly soaked in his blood. It became a stark reminder that Peter, for all his bravado, was now entirely mortal. She set him down by Mantis, glancing uneasily at Thanos’s unconscious form, before running down the walkway, brandishing her sword in determination.

“It’s about time you got here,” Nebula grunted, spearing another pair of Chitauri. “We can only hold them off for so long. The others better get here soon, or we’re _all_ dead.”

“If they can even find us. For all we know, Thanos directed Sanctuary to be taken _thousands_ of clicks away.” Gamora paused to drive her sword into a Chitauri’s chest, turning away before she could be splattered with blood. “Where’s the closest planet?”

“You ask like I’ve - had - any - say - in - what’s - going _on_!” Nebula finally managed to knock out a particularly persistent soldier who seemed unreceptive to her punches, until she finally gave in and electrocuted it with her blade. She sidestepped casually as its body fell to the floor. “God, these things are annoying.”

Mantis, meanwhile, tentatively removed one of her hands from Thanos’s temples, gasping in surprise as he began to mumble nonsensical ramblings under his breath as soon as she did. She waited with bated breath to see if anything else would happen, though he still seemed to be subdued, if a little twitchy. Turning slightly, she laid her hand against Peter’s torso, gingerly feeling around for internal damage. Though she had no medical knowledge or training, it felt as if her powers were inherently telling her all that she needed to know.

Screwing her eyes shut, she began humming under her breath to the tune of a song Peter first shared with her since they were children, moving her hand slowly back and forth over the central wound. Energy began to ebb and flow in her chest, similar to how her blood coursed through her veins, only lighter, almost spiritual. It spiraled down her arm, spreading out through her fingers, tickling her nerves. Peter’s entire body began to glow very faintly, the way it did when he still had the Celestial light, the energy continuing to ripple back and forth between he and Mantis, like waves coming in and out on the shore. Suddenly, a heartbeat pounded in Mantis’s ears - _Peter!_ she thought joyously - and her eyes flew open in anticipation.

She stared down at him, relieved to see the bleeding had finally stopped, the color in his face slowly returning. He was still unconscious, and his wound was only temporarily closed with her energy seal, but he was stable for now. Slightly unsettled by her own abilities, she slowly brushed his blood-matted hair away from his forehead. “Peter,” she whispered. “I am going to take your pain. You will have a happy sleep. You will have happy dreams...of happy memories. And you _will_ wake again. You...you have to.”

Peter let out a soft sigh, almost as if he’d heard her. Mantis felt a sharp pain surge through her entire body for a split second, burning its way through her brain and heart, and she let out a gasp of relief as it left her. Satisfied, she placed her hand back onto Thanos’s temple once more. For a brief moment, she considered how easy it would be for her to snap his neck, right here, right now, for what he had done. For _everything_ he had done.

* * *

 “You put a tracker in them radios? You might be a genius after all, rat,” Yondu commented, genuinely impressed.

“How else were we gonna find ‘em? Not like we got ‘Gamora radar’, and no, that ain’t a thing, Drax,” Rocket snorted as Drax opened his mouth. He fell silent in concentration as they approached Sanctuary, his ears flattening against his head in memory of the last time they’d been here. “So...where do we think they’re at?”

“The throne room,” Drax said decisively, clenching his fists as he gazed out the dashboard window. “Thanos is an arrogant man with a taste for theatrics. If he truly is holding them hostage, there is no better place than the room in which he believes he reigns above all.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a little dramatic?” Kraglin asked. Drax glared at him.

The Milano touched down in the loading bay a few minutes later, where Rocket immediately gunned down all the Chitauri soldiers who came running to meet them. Kraglin remained behind as their getaway pilot, while Drax led the others through the enormous spacecraft’s maze of halls. Yondu glanced around uneasily, his hand resting on his yaka arrow in reassurance as he pictured the horrors that could have taken place here.

Though Yondu hadn’t spent much time with Gamora and even less so with Nebula, for the most part, he liked what he saw. They were tough, capable young women with their heads in the right place, and he admired their tenacity. Gamora seemed well-suited for Peter, and Yondu did find himself at kin with the sisters. After all, they had all grown up enslaved by relentlessly violent maniacs and were now breaking free of their circumstances. It broke his heart to look around and see the place they had called home, to picture younger versions of the girls, tiptoeing in fear around every corner, spending every spare moment fighting each other, fighting for their lives. Though Yondu had lived his life on Ego’s planet in suspense, waiting for the dreaded moment where Ego would unleash his full powers and harm - potentially _kill_ \- his children, they still had relatively cushy upbringings compared to the Children of Thanos. Peter and Mantis, at the very least, had Yondu. Gamora and Nebula only _barely_ had each other.

“This ain’t no place any decent being should be livin’ in,” Yondu murmured. “And I spent a good coupl’a decades on a ratty rustbucket of a ship. Hell, I’d take livin’ in any of the _bathrooms_ on the Eclector over anywhere on _this_ thing.”

“Home sweet home,” Rocket drawled sarcastically. “It grows on ya. The mold, not the feelin’.”

“Quiet! Do you _want_ the Chitauri to be alerted to our presence?” Drax hissed. “We must be silent. So silent, that we become invisible to the earth.”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, patting Drax almost condescendingly on the shoulder.

“Groot said ‘good luck with that’,” Rocket muttered to Yondu, snickering.

It didn’t take them long to get to the throne room, what with the sound of Gamora and Nebula’s battle cries telling them exactly where they needed to go. They sprinted in the direction of their shouts, with Drax, Rocket, and Groot immediately charging into the fray. Yondu, however, skidded to a stop at the sight of Ego’s children - _his_ children - at the very end of the room. “Oh, hell,” he breathed.

Yondu tore past the Chitauri soldiers, barely registering their presence, and collapsed beside Mantis. “Yondu!” she sobbed in relief. “Oh, you’re all here...I have never been so glad to see you!”

“What’s wrong with Quill?” Yondu barked, alarmed to find himself kneeling in a pool of blood. There was no mistaking who it belonged to. “What happened here?!”

“Thanos, he...he stabbed Peter,” Mantis hiccuped. “I can feel his emotions...he tortured Peter and Nebula. I think he did it to hurt Gamora. I am not sure, it all happened so fast, I...they did not have time to explain.”

“And why ain’t we killin’ this bastard right now?” Yondu growled. The yaka arrow whipped out of its holster, pressing the tip of its arrowhead into Thanos’s temples.

“Gamora thinks it is better for him to be under our control than dead,” Mantis explained. “I do not see how, but I suppose we do not know the extent of his control like they do. I trust that she is right.”

Yondu reluctantly pocketed the arrow, instead moving to cradle Peter’s head in his lap. He stared down sadly at the boy he raised, the boy who had never been so still in his life. Peter had been a fussy child, and was an even more frenetic young man. Always moving, always talking, always looking for the next great adventure, no matter how big or small. Now, his chest was barely rising and falling with every pained breath, his limbs limp and lifeless. It scared Yondu immensely, but he knew he had to be brave for Mantis. “I see you put that energy seal of yours on ‘im. Good. You’re gettin’ so powerful, girl.” Yondu affectionately squeezed her shoulder. “Shoulda asked earlier, but you okay?”

“No, but I do not have to be okay. I have to be _strong_ ,” Mantis insisted.

“C’mon, Mantis. You might be the most powerful being in this whole damn room, but that don’t mean you gotta do all the work yourself,” Yondu frowned. “Gimme a minute, and we can get outta here.” After gently setting Peter back down, Yondu got to his feet and pulled out his communicator. “Hey, Kraglin! Gonna need you to bring the Milano around to us. Mantis don’t exactly have much room to dance, if you catch my drift.”

“I don’t, cap’n, but headin’ to you now!” Kraglin replied cheerfully.

Shaking his head, Yondu patted Mantis on the back before turning and sprinting towards the battle. He watched in momentary awe as Gamora and Nebula tag-teamed their way through a particularly vicious crowd of Chitauri, while Drax, Groot, and Rocket were in the periphery of the fight, trying their best to kill as many soldiers as they could without accidentally hitting the sisters in the process. “You kids might wanna step back!” Yondu hollered.

They turned at the sound of his voice, looking at him half-bewildered, half-disbelieving, as Yondu pursed his lips and whistled. The yaka arrow lingered by his ear, almost as if it were waiting for his instruction, before promptly zipping through the skull of every single soldier like they were made of butter, leaving a streak of red light in its wake. The Chitauri collapsed around them, the floor rumbling from the sheer weight of their bodies as they fell, one by one.

Silence. Then: “You couldn’t’ve done that just a _little_ bit earlier?” Rocket exclaimed incredulously.

“Watch your mouth, rat, I just saved everyone’s asses,” Yondu grumbled, stashing the arrow once more. “Kraglin’s bringing the ship to us so we can get the hell outta here. Now, Gamora, you wanna tell me what happened to Quill?”

Gamora wiped the sweat from her brow as she stumbled to her feet. She looked rather defeated for someone who no longer had to fight, her eyes half-trained on Peter over Yondu’s shoulder. “Thanos learned that to obtain the Soul Stone, it requires the sacrifice of a loved one. He believed that by threatening to harm both Peter and Nebula, he could make me choose one to kill in order to do it. I...tried to take my own life to prevent either from happening, but he tricked me. And then he said...he said he would sacrifice _me_ instead. That was when Peter tried to intervene, but it was the exact moment that you all killed Ego. So Peter lost his powers, _and_ his immortality. So Thanos decided to kill Peter instead, and leave Nebula. That I would be left with just one person I loved instead.” Her eyes glazed over in deep thought. “Perfectly balanced, as all things should be,” she murmured, almost as if she were remembering it from somewhere. She shuddered.

The others watched in silence as Gamora limped her way back to Peter, kneeling beside him and smoothing his hair away from his forehead. She laid her head against his chest, relieved to find his heartbeat was steady, maybe even a little stronger than before. “He will only be stable for so long,” Mantis said softly. “We need to get him somewhere with organic material. A planet with lots of vegetation, maybe.”

“Wait, the Gauntlet. We need to get it off him, _now_ ,” Nebula interjected, striding towards them, glaring down at Thanos’s face. She turned to look at the rest of the group. “Are you going to help, or just stand around like idiots?”

They hastily jogged over to help, crowding around Thanos’s body and gripping the cuff of the Gauntlet. However, despite the enormity of Thanos’s arm relative to everyone else, no one’s fingers seemed small enough to slide into the gap, not even Rocket’s. “Oh, you gotta be _kiddin’_ me,” he growled, jumping down from Thanos’s shoulder and kicking him swiftly in the head. “His army’s dead, _he’s_ practically dead, and we _still_ can’t get this damn glove offa him?!”

“I am Groot,” Groot said gently, holding out his arm. The others stepped back, watching as Groot’s branches snaked out from his fingertips, gradually becoming thinner and thinner until they were no bigger than a sewing needle, slipping into the minuscule space between Thanos’s forearm and the Gauntlet. Slowly, but surely, he eased it off, depositing the Gauntlet neatly into Nebula’s outstretched arms. She looked at him, uncharacteristically impressed.

“You’re jus’ full of surprises, twig,” Yondu said admiringly.

“That almost felt _too_ easy,” Gamora muttered, mostly to herself. “Rocket, did you ever make a backup bomb?”

“Forget ‘backup bomb’, I just make a bunch of ‘em because I can,” Rocket smirked, brandishing the inside of his bag. “You wanna blow this shithole to pieces, I’m in. Are you _actually_ lettin’ me have some fun for once?”

Before she could respond, there was an explosion of sound just behind them as the Milano came crashing through the archway, mowing over the pile of unmoving Chitauri bodies nearby. It wavered on the narrow length of the walkway before precariously tipping over, one of its wings half-submerged in the shallow waters surrounding them. They stared dumbly at the ship as the landing ramp opened for them. Kraglin’s voice crackled loudly over the ship’s external speakers. “Uh, guys, there’s a whole buncha soldiers comin’ this way from behind? I got most of ‘em, but we should probably get goin’ before - ”

“Don’t have to tell _me_ twice,” Nebula muttered, sprinting towards the ship with the Infinity Gauntlet held tight.

Gamora half-limped as she hefted Peter back into her arms, stumbling onto the ship and setting him down on the cot that _she_ had occupied not too long ago. She barely registered the commotion around her as the others came aboard, strapping themselves down on the benches, or in Rocket’s case, joining Kraglin at the controls. Instead, she went for the first aid kit, kneeling by Peter’s side so she could clean and dress his other wounds.

Yondu lingered by the edge of the ramp as Kraglin brought the ship back up in the air, slowly lowering it back down so they were hovering a few feet above Mantis, who was still holding steadfast to Thanos, hesitant to let go.

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you, Mantis. You let me pull you in, and we can take off. We can be done.”

“He is too strong. I...I can’t,” Mantis cried, her fingernails digging so deeply into Thanos’s temples, she was very nearly drawing blood.

“We are _not_ leaving you behind!” Yondu shouted over the roar of the engine. “You take my hand, girl! _Now_!”

Mantis slowly released him, straining to reach, when Thanos suddenly began thrashing beneath her, jerking upwards and slamming his fists into her sides in an attempt to throw her off. She let out a terrified shriek. “YONDU!”

Before Yondu could react, Drax jumped over the side without hesitation. Thanos flailed about again, promptly swinging Mantis around until he brought her crashing to the ground, slamming her head against the floor and rendering her unconscious. With a mighty cry, Drax pulled one of his blades from his boot and drove it straight into Thanos’s shoulder, causing him to stumble back. Drax quickly picked Mantis up and ran back to the ship, taking an enormous leap to land neatly on the ramp. He made his way through the ship to set her back down beside her brother, Yondu following close behind. “She is just unconscious,” Drax murmured reassuringly. Mantis’s hands fell to her side, her fingertips brushing against Peter’s.

Thanos let out a thundering roar beneath them as the Milano soared through the ceiling of Sanctuary, crumbling it to pieces without hesitation as they made their escape back out to space. Just as the landing ramp began to close, Groot tossed out a handful of Rocket’s bombs, watching gleefully as they detonated upon impact. Shards of rock and glass went flying everywhere, spraying debris among the stars. The last thing they heard before the door closed was Thanos’s agonized scream. Gamora and Nebula instinctively shivered.

As Rocket and Kraglin flew them far away from their site of destruction, Yondu settled in by Peter and Mantis’s feet, looking unusually pensive. “Thanks, Drax,” he said quietly. “I _never_ woulda been able to do that for her.”

“You are my new friends,” Drax replied easily. “I do not leave my friends behind.”

Yondu nodded, unsure of how to respond. “You got any ideas for where we’re headin’, Gamora?”

Gamora chewed on her lip thoughtfully, barely able to collect her thoughts. Her mind was racing, and yet it felt devoid of ration and logic at the same time. She turned towards Kraglin and Rocket. “Take us to Berhert,” she called. “It’s abandoned, and it’s nothing but forests and lakes. There should be plenty of resources to help Mantis heal Peter.”

“You got it,” Kraglin replied easily, tapping the coordinates into the navigation console. Satisfied, Gamora moved to then clean and dress Mantis’s head wound. _You are so brave_ , Gamora thought, smiling sadly at the other girl. _I hope you know that. I should tell you that when you’re awake._ As she finished up, she could see Nebula out of the corner of her eye, sitting on the bench, the Infinity Gauntlet laid at her feet. She was staring intensely at it like it would explode upon contact, which, frankly, was rather true.

“Sleep, Gamora,” Drax said urgently, interrupting her thoughts. Gamora glanced over to see both he and Yondu were watching her, worried. “You have been awake for far too long, and burdened for even longer. You deserve restful, _peaceful_ slumber.”

“My sleep will be anything but peaceful,” Gamora said, slowly lowering herself onto the floor, curling up by Peter’s side. She briefly did a visual check of all his vitals - his skin color was almost normal again, his lips not quite as pale. He was no longer bleeding from his mouth or any of his wounds, and his chest was rising and falling very slightly. “I will sleep when this is over.”

“Ever so dramatic, sister.” Nebula kneeled next to her, grabbing the first aid kit and unceremoniously yanking Gamora back up into a seated position. At Gamora’s perplexed expression, Nebula scoffed, practically wrestling Gamora out of her jacket so she could reach a particularly nasty cut across her bicep. “We have an hour to kill before we get to Berhert. I might as well pass the time by fixing up all your mistakes.”

Gamora snorted, but she couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath, too. “If you want to see my injuries that way.”

“I could map out every wrong move you made in our fight today with every injury you’ve sustained,” Nebula smirked. Almost instinctively, she shuffled a little closer until their legs were pressed together, her head ducked near Gamora’s. She ran her thumb across the scrape on Gamora’s shoulder, careful not to apply too much pressure. “For example...this one. After all these years, you still have trouble landing on your feet instead of your back…”

* * *

Gamora held her breath as they landed on Berhert with relative ease, astonished that, aside from a small asteroid field they had to navigate through as they approached its atmosphere, they had encountered no other disasters. She had half-expected Thanos to appear out of nowhere again, or at least, to be swarmed by the Black Order and their Outrider army.

At Mantis’s orders, Drax and Groot assembled a makeshift tent to shelter Peter from the elements, what with Berhert being prone to sudden rainstorms, while Rocket, Yondu, and Kraglin began working on patching up the Milano, which had miraculously not collapsed despite the tumultuous ride it had taken to get here. Gamora and Nebula stayed by Peter briefly until he was moved into the tent, at which Mantis then told the others to clear out and give her room to work.

“I feel useless,” Gamora confessed privately to Nebula as they watched the others go by, laden with materials and tools as they worked. “We should be doing something.”

“Everyone keeps telling you to sleep. Why don’t you listen to _them_ for once?” Nebula snarked.

“I can’t. Not with Thanos still out there.” Gamora paused. “Not with Peter still dying.”

“I teased before, but...he really _does_ mean a lot to you. Doesn’t he?” Nebula sounded almost small when she said it, hugging her knees a little closer to her chest.

Gamora smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “Yes...he does. I suppose I should stop feeling ashamed of...feeling what I feel. Even though it’s taken me so long to admit to it out loud.”

“You will have more time with him. He isn’t done yet,” Nebula commented, almost reassuringly. “He’s too stubborn to die. As are you.” She exhaled. “You shouldn’t have hesitated back there. Thanos is right. You _have_ gotten soft. Even when you could have easily chosen to kill me and save him, you couldn’t do it, though I’m sure it was on your mind.”

Gamora shook her head. “Easy? No, not at all. That’s where you’re wrong,” she said firmly. “Nebula, I wouldn’t have given up either of you, but I _especially_ would have _never_ chosen to sacrifice you. Peter means... _so_ much to me. That much is true. But you’re my sister. You will _always_ be my sister. And yes, maybe I’ve become soft. Maybe I’ve let my heart rule my head. But I don’t think sentiment is making me weak. Not anymore. I think it’s making me stronger. It’s making me realize not just _how_ to take care of you, but _why_ I take care of you. Why you will _always_ have me by your side.” She held her hand out to Nebula, though she made no move to grab hers. “We’ve spent years resenting each other and protecting each other at the same time. I thought, at some point, we’d finally reach an impasse. A point of no return, one way or the other. But I realize now that our paths are carrying us forward _together_. And after all this is done...I want you to stay with me, Nebula. I don’t _just_ want to be your sister. I want to be your friend, too.”

Nebula swallowed, staring down at Gamora’s outstretched hand. “Friend?” she repeated. It sounded foreign on her tongue. “You think we can be friends.”

“I think in some ways, we already are. I just want to be sure,” Gamora said gently. “We have each other’s backs. We confide in each other. We keep each other safe.”

“Because of circumstance,” Nebula insisted.

“If it’s circumstance, then why are none of our other siblings here with us?” Nebula fell silent; she had nothing to say to that. “It’s you and me for a reason, Nebula. I’m not saying we have to put aside our differences forever, pretend that we’ve always had a good relationship. I just...I want to settle the debts in my life. Clean slate, clear conscience. I want to be part of a _real_ family, now that I’ve had a taste of what it could be like. And I want my family to start with you. Always.”

Nebula didn’t respond, instead electing to pluck aimlessly at the grass beneath her feet, watching the strands float away in the mild winds of Berhert. They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the others come and go. Rocket, arguing with Yondu and Kraglin about the best way to repair the Milano’s broken wing, waving a wrench around in the air as if it would make his point any more valid. Yondu looked about five seconds away from poking him with his arrow, while Kraglin just seemed bored. Drax and Groot were guarding the makeshift medic tent, only they were sitting on the ground, playing some sort of children’s game in the dirt. Groot appeared to be winning with no trouble, while Drax was growing increasingly frustrated, demanding Groot explain the rules again. And of course, Mantis, coming in and out of the tent every few minutes to grab more materials, looking harried, but hopeful.

“So you’re saying that this... _group_ of ours...they’re our family?” Nebula asked uncertainly. Gamora nodded. “If you’d asked me three months ago, I would have sworn you’d lost your mind. But now...they’re not all that bad. A little idiotic, maybe.”

“Is that a yes?” Gamora said hopefully.

“Only because I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Nebula grumbled, but she was very nearly smiling. “So...what do we do with this?” She nudged the Infinity Gauntlet with her foot like it was nothing more than a common rock.

“Careful,” Gamora scolded, though secretly, she was too overjoyed by Nebula’s acceptance to be upset. “And we keep it away from Thanos for as long as possible. We might even have to use it against him if it comes down to it. We can’t let its power suck us in, but if need be...it’s our last line of defense.”

“Last? I was thinking first,” Nebula retorted. “You think too small sometimes, Gamora. This is our chance. The opportunity you’ve been talking about since the day we landed on Ego. We see him, we strike.”

“I don’t know what it could do to our bodies, our minds,” Gamora said, her eyes fixated on the Power Stone in particular. “It could tear us apart if we aren’t strong enough to wield the Stones.”

“If it kills Thanos, then the sacrifice would be worth it,” Nebula said darkly.

Gamora let out a quiet noise of protest, reaching for her sister. “Nebula, no. I couldn’t possibly let you - ”

“‘Prioritizing the one over the many’,” Nebula shot back. “Isn’t that what you told Quill?”

Gamora’s shoulders sagged in defeat, pulling away. “You’re...you’re right. I’m being hypocritical. But if there’s a way in which we can defeat Thanos _without_ using the Gauntlet, I’d rather do that first. We’ve already risked our lives far too many times these past couple of days.”

“It’s what we’ve been doing our whole lives,” Nebula shrugged.

“I don’t want to live in fear anymore,” Gamora said, shaking her head. “I want to believe that we deserve that.”

“Gamora.” Both of them looked up to see Mantis standing over them, her hands and arms covered in blood. She had an unsettlingly serene expression on her face, and for a second, Gamora felt her heart stop. Mantis smiled. “I have finished. I put him under with my powers, and he will wake on his own time. But he _will_ wake. I thought you might want to go see him now.”

“Yes,” Gamora breathed, stumbling to her feet. “Yes, yes, I do.”

* * *

Gamora held her breath as she approached the tent, pushing aside the fringe-leaf curtain so she could see him. Peter was laid out across the cot, his eyes still closed, his mouth slightly open. Mantis had changed him into a new set of clothes, a simple T-shirt and sweatpants, his freshly-washed leather coat folded neatly by his head, his boots set by his feet. He looked peaceful.

Hushed, she laid beside him, rolling onto her back so she could stare up at the peek of sunshine streaming through the gap in the tent’s ceiling. If she closed her eyes, she could, for a moment, pretend they were back on Ego, curled up at the base of Meredith’s statue, surrounded by flowers and bittersweet music and the hesitant promise of a future together.

“It’s been so long since you’ve last spoken,” Gamora murmured forlornly. “You used to talk enough for three people, and now...well, you haven’t been talking at all.” She turned onto her side, observing him. Mantis had done a phenomenal job in healing him; the wounds on his face were entirely gone, the strangulation marks around his neck, wrists, and ankles almost completely faded away. And of course, the giant hole in his torso had been sealed up perfectly. Supposedly, his organs were back in place, though Mantis refused to tell anyone what the true extent of Peter’s internal damage had been. She didn’t want to scare them.

“Your father is dead. _My_ father no longer has the Infinity Gauntlet. Though we did destroy his ship, I have no doubt that he’s still out there somewhere. We had to choose between holding him captive and saving your life, and for me, for all of us...there was an obvious answer. Only now, Thanos is in pursuit of your planet. Your _home_ planet, Terra. The others are fixing up your ship and trying to get a hold of whatever’s left of the Nova Corps, but I don’t know if your planet will be able to withstand his attack. Terrans have spent so long being a relatively primitive species, unaware of other life in the galaxy until...until very recently.” Gamora let out a dry, unamused laugh. “I...never told you this, because I didn’t know how to bring it up, but Thanos once sent an army of Chitauri soldiers to Earth in pursuit of the Space Stone. I don’t know what conspired, but I _do_ know he lost. There are heroes on Earth that made that happen, Peter. Defenders of _your_ planet. And maybe they’re still there, and _maybe_ they’ll be able to defeat Thanos, but I don’t think they can do that on their own. Which is why we need to help. That’s...that’s all I want to do with the rest of my life, I think. Help.”

She sniffled. “I’ve mentioned this before, but…when we first met, you said you were no hero. And I didn’t think myself a hero when I came to you, either, but I knew I just wanted a chance to be _good_. I have spent so much of my life living in fear and anger. I knew so little of friendship, of love. Or rather, I didn’t know that to some extent...I already had it. In Drax, and Rocket, and Groot, and...of course, my sister. I may have taught you discipline, but you have taught me kindness. We balance each other out in far more than just leadership, Peter. It’s like there were parts of an incomplete story that made more sense once we met. Like we figured out how to finish the story together. In a way that _we_ get to choose. And I think that’s why...I think that’s why I’m falling in love with you.”

Gamora let the words linger as she moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder. She knew the others were being generous in allowing her time with Peter when she needed to be out there with them, helping fix the ship or monitor their communication. But this felt like the only way she could say all that she needed to say. “I don’t even know what ‘falling in love’ even means. Or what it’s like to be in love. Maybe I already am. I wouldn’t know.” She laughed again, this time something warm and real. “I just know that you make me happy. You make me laugh. You make me feel like this... _thing_ we’re doing isn’t so impossible after all.”

“I wish you would wake up,” she continued, her voice growing stronger. Inevitably, she knew she had to get up, she had to walk out of this tent and be of use. Gamora _hated_ feeling useless, but even more so, she hated feeling helpless. She hated not being able to do anything for Peter but lie here and wait for him to stir. “Everyone is so... _tired_ , Rocket especially. I would never say this out loud, but I was watching him earlier, and he’s starting to make mistakes. He’s even more temperamental than usual, and that’s really saying something. The stress is getting to us, it’s getting to all of us. Nebula and I, our injuries aren’t healing as fast as they used to. Drax is getting upset with Groot, of all people. Your sister...she is so brave. But her resolve is crumbling, too. Even though she’s healed you, I just don’t think she’ll be okay with what she’s done _until_ it’s done. I think she feels guilty for choosing your life over holding Thanos hostage. But I don’t. I think we would all choose you again. Every _single_ time.”

Her voice was growing hoarse - she never talked for this long, not ever in her life - but it felt right. “Rocket is stubborn, but I think he might need you. He’s doing fine with the ship’s exterior damage, but it’s the comms systems that aren’t working, no matter what he does. All he’s getting is static, and the rest of us don’t know enough about engineering or tech to help. It’s not just that, though, it’s...it’s so quiet. We’re worried about you, Peter. It’s distracting. I should be out there, checking on Mantis’s injuries or mediating between Drax and Groot, just... _something_ , but I’m in here instead, waiting for you to wake up. Talking to you as if you could hear me.”

Sighing, Gamora sat up, preparing to leave. She felt sillier with every passing second she stayed, rambling out loud, mostly to herself. Suddenly, calloused fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist, gently tugging her back. “Of course _you’d_ find a way to blame me for dyin’,” Peter wheezed. “Can’t catch a break with you, huh, Gamora? Always keepin’ me on my toes.”

“Peter!” Gamora immediately wrapped her arms around his middle to help him up, her eyes prickling with tears of joy. “In my defense, you _did_ try to attack Thanos despite knowing you only had about two seconds of Celestial power left. It wasn’t your best strategy.”

“He was gonna kill you...and you were s’posed to run. I told you t - to run.” He struggled into an upright position as he coughed, his throat completely dried out from lack of saliva. Gamora held a water bottle to his lips, helping him drink. Peter leaned into her as she did, managing to give her a weak, but grateful smile. “How long’ve I been out?”

“Twenty hours, I believe,” Gamora replied, smiling back. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got speared with a blade after losing my immortality, so, like...not great.” Peter lifted his shirt, glancing down at his abdomen, astonished to find himself free of injuries. Gamora couldn’t help but stare, too, though admittedly for different reasons. “Who...what…?”

“Mantis,” Gamora said simply. “She’s incredible, Peter. The things she can do...they’re far beyond what I think _any_ of us could imagine.”

“I’ll thank her when I can actually stand,” Peter chuckled, shaking his head in proud disbelief. “And you? You’re okay? Healin’ up?”

“Yes, though I still haven’t slept,” she admitted.

Peter held her face in concern, running his thumbs across her cheeks. “Gamora, I also told you to _nap_.”

“I had too much on my mind,” she said simply, and Peter sighed, knowing he couldn’t fight her on this, especially when he was still physically and mentally weakened.

“So...Dad’s dead. I don’t got my powers anymore. How, uh...how many people did we lose when we killed him?”

Gamora barely remembered the number Yondu had mentioned to her in passing during the trip here. “Twenty-five million. The more...rural areas of the planet, along with some of Kraglin’s guards who stayed till the very end. He’s working on fixing the ship at the moment, but I imagine he’ll need time to process it later. We all will.”

Peter sucked in a breath. “Twenty-five...that’s, that’s like one percent of our population, right?” Gamora nodded remorsefully. “We’ll do a memorial for ‘em someday. But that’s honestly a lot better than I was expectin’, especially when Dad started waking up and losing his shit, and...and then we left.”

“I’m glad you can be positive about this,” Gamora said softly. “Perspective. We will mourn them, of course. They didn’t deserve to die, not a single one of them. But at least the other two billion will have their second chance at life.”

“Yeah, if we can manage to stop Thanos,” Peter mumbled. “You said...I think you said somethin’ about him going to Earth?”

“Yes, since they apparently have two...wait.” Gamora paused. “You heard me talking earlier?”

Peter also froze, realizing he’d been caught. “Uh, well, Thanos mentioned it back on Sanctuary, and I have really good memory, you know, and - ”

“ _Peter_ ,” she said sternly. “Have you been awake the whole time I was here?”

“Not exactly? More like I heard people’s voices fadin’ in and out. Yours, mostly, since you were the last one in here.” Gamora let out an internal sigh of relief, hoping that he had only heard the less...intimate confessions she’d made. Peter smirked. “So…'incomplete story’, huh?”

Gamora groaned into her hands, mortified. “Out of all the things I said, you’re focusing on _that_?”

“Hey, I almost died! It took me _dying_ for you to say somethin’, and I couldn’t be happier,” he grinned, reaching for her hand. She accepted it, allowing him to pull her into his lap. She wound her arms around his shoulders as she straddled him, while he cupped the back of her head, bringing their temples together. His eyes sparkled with something mischievous and sweet all the same. “What happened to ‘not letting sentiment be our downfall’ or whatever it is you said?”

“So you _do_ listen to me,” Gamora drawled, smiling. “I think there’s a time and place for sentiment, after all.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, too.” Gamora’s breath hitched as Peter leaned in closer, not to kiss her, but to bury his face in her neck, inhaling slowly as if to savor her. She was certain she smelled only of literal blood, sweat, and tears, but he seemed almost intoxicated by the sensation.

“Time and place, Peter,” she repeated, reluctantly pulling away. “If you’re well enough to talk, are you well enough to help Rocket?”

“Aw, you’re such a spoilsport.” He brought his hands down to her waist, the length of his fingers spanning her belly. She felt a warmth stirring in her stomach, remembering the first time he’d touched her like this, back in Meredith’s secret garden. It had only been a few days ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. “Seriously, Gamora, you gotta sleep. I don’t know how you haven’t passed out yet.”

“It’s not from lack of trying,” Gamora admitted.

“How ‘bout we make a deal, then?” Peter pulled them both back down onto the cot, his arms still wrapped tightly around her middle, their fronts pressed together. Gamora shivered again at the sensation. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep. _Then_ I’ll go help Rocket. You don’t get up until we’re leaving...wherever it is we are right now. Uh, where are we?”

“Berhert. We needed organic material to heal you,” she explained, tentatively laying her head against his shoulder.

“Mm,” Peter hummed, running his fingers through her hair, carefully detangling the knots and strands that were congealed with blood, wincing as he did so. “You want me to sing you to sleep or somethin’?”

Gamora swatted at him playfully. “Don’t patronize me, Peter.” Still, she felt the tension in her body melt away as he brought their foreheads back together, his eyes impossibly soft.

“How about a kiss goodnight, then? And yeah, okay, it’s probably, like, noon, but - _mmf_!”

With a slight tip of her chin, Gamora had closed the gap. It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was certainly the first kiss they would remember. And it wasn’t perfect, either - Gamora had been a little eager and nearly squashed their noses together in the process, and both their mouths tasted sour from the lack of oral hygiene - but it felt like a long time coming, and yet like the perfect time all the same.

Peter deepened the kiss, opening his mouth a little to let Gamora capture his bottom lip between her teeth, smiling teasingly into the motion before tilting her head for a different angle, letting out a soft noise of pleasure. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, her hips rolling a little as she pressed into him, pinning him into the cot beneath them. Peter’s breath stuttered as she held him down, every single one of his senses growing increasingly overwhelmed by Gamora and the way she made him feel.

Before it could go any further, though, as much as he wanted it to, Peter finally broke the kiss, pleased with the way she attempted to chase his mouth with hers again, shivering as Gamora let out a frustrated whine when he didn’t return the gesture. “One hell of a goodnight,” he murmured, his breath still short.

“It’s only about three in the afternoon, but I agree.” There was a pause as Gamora smirked at him, clearly proud of her clever joke. Peter couldn’t contain his joy at her newfound sense of humor, flipping them around so she was underneath him, pressing kisses into her jaw and neck, kissing further and further down as she let out an infectious, almost bubbly giggle. “Peter...I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into her shoulder. 

* * *

Peter stirred half an hour later, blinking blearily into the blinding sunlight as he realized that he had fallen asleep without meaning to. It had been a relatively easy feat since he was wrapped around Gamora, who was warm and steady and soft. Reluctantly, he detangled himself from her, gently laying her head down on the cot. Her hair splayed out beneath her, curling slightly around her jawline, framing her face. She looked calm in slumber, if not for the injuries that were scarring over on her cheekbones and forehead. Her wounds were healing, but not quite fast enough for Peter’s liking. The way she winced with every small movement told him she was still in pain, but she would never admit to it, so he let her be.

Though he knew he had to join the others and let them see he was finally awake, he didn’t quite want to leave her yet. His heart thrilled at the recollection of her words earlier, the moment they had shared. _She might love me_ , Peter thought, grinning goofily at the very notion. _And I know I love her._ Was it too soon to love her, though? It had only been three months since they met. Time said yes, but circumstance - and the romantic in Peter - said no. He wanted her in his life, for the _rest_ of his life, wanted to go on adventures with her and their friends, do incredible things together, no matter how ambitious or not ambitious at all.

Sighing reluctantly, Peter bent to kiss Gamora briefly on the cheek before limping out of the tent, practically dragging his feet behind him; his legs were still numb from disuse. He spotted the others by the Milano, parked less than fifty feet away. They appeared to be arguing - of course - over the fuel. “Hey, what’d I say about workin’ on my ship?” he called.

There was a loud clatter as Yondu and Rocket both dropped the tools they were holding, everyone whipping around rather comically to stare, bug-eyed, as Peter approached them. “Quill! You’re alive! Thought you were done for,” Rocket exclaimed delightedly.

Peter laughed. “Can’t keep me down,” he boasted. “But, uh, also, keep it down. Gamora’s sleeping.”

“How did you manage _that_?” Nebula said incredulously.

“Well, I told her that if - _oof_ \- ” Mantis had taken a running leap at Peter and flung her arms around him, sobbing profusely into his chest, completely overwhelmed. Yondu strolled over and wrapped his arms around them both, rustling Peter’s hair as he did.

“I was not sure if it worked,” Mantis wept, snuggling into him. “I thought I had failed you again.”

“You didn’t fail me, Mantis, you never did. You were frickin’ _amazing_ is what you were. Gamora told me all about what you did back there with Thanos, with healin’ me. You’re _incredible_.” Peter kissed the top of her head. “Y’know, I told Gamora once she was the bravest person I’ve ever met, but I think she might have some competition.”

“You’re one stubborn bastard, Quill,” Yondu beamed, clapping him on the shoulder after taking a step back. “Knew you wasn’t about to die. You jus’ like bein’ dramatic and makin’ everyone worry ‘bout ya.”

“Go easy on me, dude, I’ve been havin’ a rough week,” Peter chuckled. “How’s my ship?”

“Work in progress,” Rocket shrugged. “Her systems are back to normal, for the most part, but her internal fixin’s? Not so much.”

“Let me take a look,” Peter offered. “Mantis, Yondu, you wanna join me?”

“Normally I would, but I could use some rest, now that I know you are okay,” Mantis said apologetically, patting his arm. When she did, her antennae suddenly lit up. She gasped. “Peter...you are...you feel...different. You and Gamora…?”

“We, uh, we worked some things out, yeah,” Peter admitted, grinning widely. Nebula and Rocket exchanged dubious looks of mild disgust. “Aw, come on, we just made out a little, don’t make it weird. She’s my wife, I’m allowed to kiss her!”

Yondu snorted, grabbing Peter by the wrist and dragging him towards the landing dock. “C’mon, Quill. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

They worked in companionable silence for the next hour or so, checking and rechecking the wiring of the ship while the others wandered off to get some well-deserved food and rest. Peter was still a little sluggish, having slept for so long, but Yondu was surprisingly patient with him, talking him through the process as they fixed up the communication lines.

Near the end of their work, Yondu decided to change topics. “So...your daddy’s dead. How’re you feelin’ about that?”

“Just...straight in with that, hey?” Peter snorted. “I dunno, I’m still processing all that stuff I saw and heard in his creepy cult cavern thing. My siblings, my people...my mom.” He cleared his throat. “Dad had his...his moments, sometimes. When he was good to me, even to Mantis. But it didn’t outweigh all the bad. You know I wanted to get off the damn planet _way_ before Gamora ever showed up. I couldn’t live like that anymore. I couldn’t sit around and take care of all those people, make policies and kiss babies and whatever other crap I’d have to do as king. Dad probably _loved_ all that stuff ‘cause it meant he was in control. But I’d never feel more _out_ of control if it were me. Maybe this is kind of a douchey thing to say, but...I feel like I’m meant to be out explorin’, wandering around and seeing the world, you know?”

“Still, you’re good with people, Quill. Look at how you wrestled _this_ motley crew together,” Yondu pointed out.

“Nah, that’s all Gamora. I might be good with charming the old ladies on the intergalactic councils, but she’s the reason everyone stays. She holds us all together.”

Yondu smiled gently. “You love her, boy?”

Peter also grinned, though mostly to himself. “Yeah, I...I think I do. Crazy, right?”

“You were so damn upset the day you found out you were gettin’ married. _Now_ look at ya,” Yondu teased, prodding him in the shoulder with the backend of a screwdriver. “ _You_ said it don’t matter what your wife was like, you’d still hate it.”

“Well, she actually _did_ turn out to be the most amazing woman in the entire galaxy, so I’ll eat my own words, I guess,” Peter laughed sheepishly. “Anyways, uh, thanks, Yondu.”

Yondu blanched. “For what?”

“Bein’, you know, _you_.” Peter’s smile was tighter this time, but no less genuine. “If you weren’t around, who knows? Maybe I would’ve been more like Gamora than like, well, _me_.”

“You mean angry? Closed off?” At Peter’s nod of agreeance, Yondu snorted. “That ain’t me, boy, that was your mama. She was the one who taught you right. Besides, what’re you thankin’ _me_ for? I was the one who was traffickin’ kids to Ego until I decided to stick around for you and Mantis. _I’m_ the reason so many of your siblings are dead, and I’m a damn coward for not tellin’ you until now. Hell, I didn’t even _tell_ you, you jus’ stumbled on all the bodies! How’re you not beatin’ on me right now for keeping all of that from ya?”

“Because I would’ve done the same thing as you,” Peter confessed, settling on the bench to rest his legs. “Look, I’ve been a stubborn bastard my entire life, and I’ve been pissed at you for some pretty dumb crap over the years. That ‘prank’ where you told me if I didn’t behave, you were gonna take me back to your old Ravager buddies and let them eat me - ”

“It was a joke,” Yondu protested.

“Not to me!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m just tryna say, Yondu, that...okay, maybe I’m just really frickin’ tired and my brain hurts, and I’ll have the energy to get mad at you later, but I…I don’t blame you for being scared of Dad. He is - _was_ \- capable of some really horrible shit, and you and Mantis had to look out for yourselves, and look out for _me_ , and...yeah, we’ve got some stuff to talk about, whatever other disturbing secrets Dad had you keep for him, but...I dunno. I don’t see the point of getting mad at you guys. I would’ve done the same to keep you both safe, too.”

Yondu fell silent, plucking aimlessly at a wire that he’d already fixed a few minutes ago. “When I first picked you up on Terra, I thought about keepin’ you all to myself,” he said quietly. “You were an annoying little brat, but I thought you’d make a good Ravager. You was a skinny kid. Good for thievin’.”

“That wasn’t all,” Peter said softly.

“Nah, it wasn’t.” Yondu shook his head. “Maybe I thought I could make up for all my wrongs, all them kids I got killed. Raise you right. ‘Cept I wouldn’t have, ‘cause then you’d be a criminal, jus’ like me.” He paused, staring off into the distance as he reminisced. “I remember...it was the second night we was on the way to Ego. I went back to my room, and you were sittin’ on my bed. You didn’t wanna sleep out in the bunks with the other boys ‘cause they scared you so bad. You were goin’ through that backpack o’ yours, readin’ the letters your mama wrote you and listenin’ to her music. The other kids I took, they didn’t have nothing on them, but you were carryin’ your whole _life_ in that bag, your memories. And I thought, either this kid’s gonna be a Ravager and he’ll be on the run for the rest of his life, or I’m gonna take him to his daddy, who’s gonna kill him dead. I s’pose I could’ve dropped you off somewhere else and gone on the run from Ego for the rest of my life, but then your sister would be all alone. She’d have nobody around to keep her company, keep her safe. So I took you to your daddy, like a coward, and I thought, ‘it’d be a damn shame if this scrawny kid with his mama’s keepsakes turned out like all the rest of ‘em’. And you wasn’t. You _were_ special.”

“Not anymore.” Peter glanced down at his perfectly ordinary fingers.

“I’m not talkin’ about your powers, boy, I don’t give a damn about those,” Yondu snapped. “It started off all normal. You was in the cave with your daddy and Mantis, and she was keepin’ you sedated like she did with all them other kids. When she brought you out of it, you saw her shakin’ real bad ‘cos she was scared. Instead of asking about Ego, like everyone else did, you asked Mantis if Ego was hittin’ her.”

“I don’t remember that at all,” Peter frowned.

“You took one look at your daddy, and you said ‘you don’t go around hittin’ people! She didn’t do nothin’, she’s just a kid!’. Ego was so damn shocked, I think he almost killed you right then and there,” Yondu chuckled darkly. “Hell, even back on the Eclector, you were diff’rent. Most kids were scared of me right to the end. After you stopped wailing about your mama, you started wantin’ to know everything that was going on around the ship, asked me way too many questions, pokin’ your nose in business you wasn’t s’posed to know about. You were always good at adaptin’ to new situations. Quick on your feet, a fast learner, even if you don’t remember things so good, and yeah, you’ve got a bit of a temper, but who doesn’t? Like I said, you woulda made a good Ravager, but your life would’ve been pretty different if I’d run off with you instead.”

Peter nodded, picturing for a moment what he would have been like if he did. “Hey, uh, Yondu?”

“What is it, boy?”

“You’re gonna stay with me and Mantis, right? You’re not gonna, I dunno, leave and join the Ravagers again?” Peter looked concerned.

“I’d have to answer to the Nova first, or whatever’s left of ‘em. They prob’ly wanna lock me up for good, maybe even kill me for all the wrong things I’ve done for the last few decades.” Yondu clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing a little too tightly. “But yeah, afterwards, I gotta keep lookin’ out for you kids. Who knows what kinda trouble you’d get into without me around.”

Peter broke into another easy smile, warm and relieved. “Yeah...yeah, who knows.”

* * *

Gamora woke in complete darkness, somewhat groggy but privately glad that she had slept. Momentarily, she thought she was alone, only to hear the soft, steady breath of someone beside her. Once her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, she was startled to find it was - “Mantis?” she whispered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “What are you doing here, are you okay?”

“Oh!” Mantis’s eyes flew open in surprise. “Sorry, Gamora. I was just so tired, and I wanted shade from the sun...I did not mean to invade your personal space.”

“That’s okay,” Gamora said reassuringly. “Do you know if we’re leaving soon?”

“I am not sure. We could go see where the others are?” Mantis offered.

Gamora nodded. “If you’re awake enough, then yes, let’s do it.”

The two girls made their way through the dense shrubbery of their surroundings towards the Milano, but no one was there. Instead, there was a faint glow emitting from a clearing not too far away - a campfire, then. As they walked towards the light, Mantis looked to Gamora curiously. “Are you feeling better? Your wounds have healed in your sleep.”

“The benefits of my modifications, I suppose,” Gamora said half-heartedly. “And how about you? Your head, did you clean your wound before you slept?”

“Nebula did it for me, actually,” Mantis said shyly. “It was very considerate of her.”

Gamora narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “...right. Oh, and before I forget, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about...earlier. It’s no secret I underestimated you when we first met, I’ve said as much before. And it was wrong of me to assume you were weak because you seemed docile. I should have seen it was because of Ego’s control, and not because of your true nature. Because your _real_ self? You displayed some of the most impressive acts of bravery I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, no, I am not brave,” Mantis chuckled awkwardly. “I am nothing like you, Gamora.”

“You’re not, which is a good thing,” Gamora insisted. “Everyone has their strengths, and ours are nothing alike. It’s why this...team of ours works so well. We fulfill different roles.”

“Thank you,” Mantis blushed. “I am just glad to be of use.”

“It’s not about being useful,” Gamora said. “Useful or not, you’re still important. It might take some getting used to, not identifying as Ego’s servant, but I know _I_ no longer want to be thought of as a daughter of Thanos. We aren’t objects of men anymore. We’re products of our own choices.”

Mantis grinned widely, reaching to squeeze Gamora’s hand. To her surprise, Gamora didn’t flinch this time. “I like the sound of that very much.”

They reached the clearing, where there was indeed a campfire crackling away. The others were crowded around its flames while sharing scraps of vegetables and fruit they’d found in the wild, along with a few packs of rations from the ship. The girls took their place on either side of Peter, Gamora by Nebula, and Mantis by Yondu, as they were greeted with enthusiasm.

“Hey,” Peter beamed, throwing his arms around both their shoulders and pulling them in for a quick hug. “We were gonna let you sleep longer. You both kicked some serious ass today.”

“I figured we need to get moving sooner rather than later,” Gamora shrugged, though she couldn’t help but smile when Peter kissed her briefly on the cheek. “The ship?”

“Mint condition. It’s like nothin’ ever happened,” Rocket bragged.

“And the Nova Corps?” Gamora pressed.

“We picked up a week-old distress signal from Xandar, probably from when Thanos first stole the Power Stone,” Peter said regretfully. “I don’t think we can do anything for ‘em right now. The best move is to head to Earth before he does.” He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

“Earth _must_ have some allies we could reach out to, defenders of some kind,” Gamora reasoned.

“Nothing as advanced as Nova,” Peter sighed, passing her some food. “I contacted Thor, since Ambassador what’s-his-face said he was on Earth for some reason. Apparently they’ve got a superteam called the...crap, I forgot. Something...Revengers? No, that’s not right…”

“That’s it.” They all turned in surprise to look at Nebula, who looked like she regretted speaking up. “Forget the stupid Nova Corps, what about the Asgardians? I doubt they’d leave their precious crown prince to die like a dog on some primitive planet.”

“Hurtful,” Peter interjected. “That’s my home you’re talkin’ about.”

“The rest of the Nine Realms have armies of their own as well,” Gamora added. “Thanos mentioned them before, he wanted them as allies - or more accurately, slaves, after he acquired the Stones. Especially those on Nidavellir, who he wanted to use to make weapons for his army.”

“Nidavellir’s a real place?” Rocket exclaimed.

“It sounds like a made-up word,” Drax agreed.

“Can we get back on topic, please? Or we’re gon’ be stuck on this damn forest planet forever,” Yondu groaned.

“Okay, okay, so we rally ‘em together, protect Earth, somehow...kill Thanos?” Peter sounded doubtful. “Is that even possible?”

Gamora looked almost shy as she reached over to pat Peter’s hand. “I think this _thing_ we’re doing doesn’t feel so impossible after all,” she said softly. Peter grinned sappily in return. “We finish eating, contact Thor and the other Realms, and set course for Terra. This ends _now_.”

* * *

Peter sat in the cockpit, alone, a few hours later, staring straight ahead despite looking at nothing. The navigation console stared back at him, the word “Terra” glowing in his face almost tauntingly. He had sent the others to bed, insisting that _he_ was the one who had already slept for twenty hours, while Rocket and Kraglin had been covering piloting duties for far too long now. Even Gamora, who asserted that she had all the sleep she needed, eventually let Peter direct her back to bed, this time to _his_ bunk.

“And you aren’t joining me?” Gamora had teased as she moved to close the door. “Hmm. Shame.” The huskiness of her voice made Peter want to follow her inside, but unfortunately, _someone_ had to keep an eye on their course.

Lost in thought, Peter almost didn’t notice Mantis sitting down in the co-pilot’s seat. “We have never been this far before,” she commented. “At least, not since we were brought to Ego.”

“It’s so freaking weird.” Peter traced a finger over the letters on the screen. “I didn’t think I’d ever go back to Earth again. I still don’t really want to, but it’s not like we’ve got a choice.”

“Your memories of Earth...they were always bittersweet. You are nostalgic for a moment in time and a person who is no longer there, not for the actual place,” Mantis said thoughtfully. “It is okay if you are scared, Peter. I think we are all a little terrified.”

“Thanos pretty much killed me once. Not lookin’ forward to giving him another chance,” Peter sighed. “You should be sleeping.”

“It seems that everyone has been making peace with everyone else, and I wanted to do the same with you. Let me say what I want to say, and I promise, I will go to bed.”

“Good, ‘cause we’ve only got another three hours before we’re there,” Peter replied. “So what is it?”

“Yondu and I were the only ones who knew of Ego’s terrible secrets.” Mantis twisted her hands in her lap, unsure of what to do with them. “Even when Yondu stayed permanently to look after us, Ego recruited other Ravager factions to bring his children to him, but they would be delivered far away from his hiding place. His personal guards would bring them the rest of the way, and the Ravagers would never know or care what happened, only that they got paid. Ego did not have leverage over them, but he knew the best way to keep _us_ quiet was to threaten you.”

“To have me killed if I found out, right?” Peter shook his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I kinda talked to Yondu about it earlier. Good to know I really didn’t mean anything to Dad, ‘cept for - ” He lifted a hand as if to call the light, only to remember he no longer had his powers. “ - right, never mind. Go on.”

“At first, Yondu and I thought there was a major flaw in his plan,” Mantis continued. “Ego needed you for the Expansion. He needed your help to take over the galaxy and remake it in his idea of perfection, his homogeneous ideal that he had built in his mind.”

“So what changed?”

“There were rumors of a warrior woman on a planet far away who had the ability to create material out of nothing,” Mantis said, hushed. “Ego did not know what to do. Taking orphaned children was relatively easy, but an adult woman was far more difficult. He knew she would be hard to break, but he wanted to try, which was why he was less concerned about your well-being.” Peter scoffed, continuing to shake his head. “You have other siblings left, Peter, and I think they deserve to live their lives without ever knowing about their father. But if you want to visit this woman…”

“What’s her name?” Peter asked quietly.

Mantis smiled. “Victoria.”

Peter nodded, mulling over her words. “I mean, sure, I might wanna meet her someday. But I already have the best sister in the galaxy.” He reached over to intertwine Mantis’s fingers with his. “I’ve been really pissed at you lately, accusin’ you of doing shady things for Dad. But it should’ve been obvious to me that you had no choice, and I’m sorry I was being such a dick about it. It was Dad’s fault, not yours.” Peter chuckled wetly, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “I still had some stuff I wanted to say to him. Part of me wishes I was there when that bastard blew up, just so I could look him in the eye one last time, and tell him he was the _worst_ thing that ever happened to us, to our people, to those poor kids, and their moms, and...and my mom. He killed her ‘cause he thinks his ‘love’ for her would’ve distracted him? That’s not how love works. Love is...it’s looking out for people. Wanting ‘em to be happy. Wanting to be happy together and makin’ compromises.” Peter scoffed. “And make the universe to be exactly like him...god, he was a real jerk.”

“I wish I was there to face him, too,” Mantis said darkly. “I would have put my hands on his temples, but not to help him sleep. To make him feel every bit of hate and anger and _fear_ I felt throughout my entire life, and to have that be the _only_ thing he could feel as he died. To let it burn him from the inside out as his body decayed into nothing.”

Peter blinked. “You scare me sometimes, Mantis,” he chuckled, squeezing her hand one last time. “But that does sound pretty badass. Go sleep, okay? We’ll be there before you know it.”

* * *

Peter became increasingly restless the closer they got, passing on piloting duties to Rocket and Kraglin for the last half hour of their trip. Anxiety burned unpleasantly in his stomach as he stood at the vantage window, staring at the surface of the planet he’d long left behind. There were no indications of unknown ships on their radar, nor any news stories circulating on Earth about aliens dropping out of the sky. The impressively large spacecraft surrounding them dwarfed the relatively small Milano, holding the armies of the Nine Realms, waiting in anticipation alongside them. It seemed like they had beat Thanos here.

He barely heard the heel of Gamora’s boots clicking across the floor as she approached him. She was in the middle of polishing one of her short blades, a sharp contrast to the gentle expression on her face. “It’s almost over, Peter. We’ve gone over the plan a thousand times. If we fail, then...it’s because it was out of our hands to begin with.” She stopped by his side, returning her blade to its sheath. “Thor said your people are safe on Asgard with the All-Father, and we have the full force of the Nine Realms beside us. All we can do now is wait.”

“We’ve been waiting for this day for almost four months,” Peter groaned, sitting on the floor. Gamora sat opposite him, their legs stretched out so their knees were barely touching. “I’m done waiting. We got my dad...it’s time we get yours, too.”

“I heard you settled your grievances with Yondu and Mantis,” Gamora commented. “Good. I’ve had my conversation with Nebula as well.”

“You make it sound like we’re dyin’ or something.” Peter fidgeted with his new utility belt and unhooked the weapons Yondu had given him for his eighteenth birthday (and Rocket had modified not too long ago), a pair of quad blasters that he’d only practiced with a handful of times. He turned them over in his hands, getting a feel for their weight and shape. It felt foreign to hold real weapons after his entire body had been something of a weapon not too long ago. “I mean, I guess I already kinda died.”

“And I’d rather you not do it again.” Gamora squeezed his leg in reassurance. “It doesn’t mean anything ominous, Peter. It’s just...settling our dues with each other. The plan will only work if everyone is in sync. We can’t do that unless we’ve stopped holding grudges and stopped letting old memories affect us.” She nodded towards the guns. “Do they feel comfortable?”

“Grip’s gonna take some getting used to, but my aim’s already pretty good, since, y’know, I’ve had practice with the light and all.” Peter tapped on the small device tucked behind his ear. “This thing is really itchy.”

“It’ll become second nature eventually,” Gamora said sympathetically. “We can’t take any risks with your Terran physiology. If you get ejected into the atmosphere, it will save you from asphyxiating to death.”

“And _these_!” Peter clanked his boots against the floor, wincing at the screech of the metal banging up against his jet boosters. “I’m already a big dude, these are just gonna make me heavier.”

“They give you back your flight capabilities, so they aren’t all that bad.” Gamora smiled wryly at him. “Any other complaints you’d like to make while I’m here?”

“Sorry,” Peter chuckled sheepishly. “I’m just not used to all this... _stuff_. And I dunno, what else are we s’posed to do while we wait?”

Gamora crawled towards him, reaching for Peter’s waist - for a wild moment Peter thought she was going for his belt - and gently untangling the Walkman from its hook. She held it up, an impish grin on her face. “I think I’ve come to understand your music a little better lately,” she said almost coyly. “Since we’re near Terra...I wouldn’t mind if you played me some of your mother’s favorites. To pass the time, that is.”

“Yeah...yeah, of course.” Peter fumbled with the device in his eagerness to get it working, while Gamora settled into his side, careful not to poke him with the weapons stashed on her hip. Once Peter found the song he was looking for, he held the headphones up to their ears and pressed play.

_To know, know, know you...is to love, love, love you...just to see you smile...makes my life worthwhile..._

“I told you a few days ago that I didn’t really understand love, but I suppose that isn’t true,” Gamora said quietly. “I think I’ve felt it for longer than I realized, for my people. They _are_ my friends. My family. It’s more like...I didn’t believe I deserved it, and so I rejected its very premise.”

“Thanos thinks he loves you, but...it’s kind of the same thing with my dad, in a way. He loves the purpose you serve, not the person you are,” Peter said, shaking his head in anger.

“My life was so deeply dependent on him, and I don’t want to feel that way anymore,” Gamora murmured. “I never cared for him one bit, but I suppose in his own _twisted_ way, he cared for me the most. Not that it’s a consolation prize. It disgusts me.”

Peter smiled sadly. “I know there’s nothin’ we can do about it right this instant, but...we _are_ on our way to take him out. And I hope it brings you peace.”

_I'll be good to you...and I'll bring love to you...oh, everyone says there'll come a day...when I'll walk alongside of you..._

“It will,” Gamora said, gritting her teeth. “But Peter...if it goes wrong...if Thanos gets me...you remember what I’ve asked of you. What you’ve promised.”

“Gamora, I - ”

“Please.” She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes shining. “You promised.”

Peter’s stomach burned with nerves once more. “I...yeah, yeah, I did. I promise.”

Gamora turned away to shed a single tear, before tilting back up to bring their lips together. She kissed him far softer, far sweeter, than she had the first time, sliding one hand into his hair, the other resting against his stomach as if to soothe him. Peter held her waist, pulling her in closer, reluctant to let go.

_And to know, know, know you...is to love, love, love you...and I do, yes I do, yes I do..._

They slowly moved apart at the sound of someone chewing. They turned to see Drax standing there, digging into another ration pack. “He’s been sighted,” he said with the enthusiasm of someone discussing the weather.

“Dude, how long’ve you been standing there?” Peter exclaimed, embarrassed.

“Long enough to watch you kiss Gamora like a Xandarian snail with the lips of a Vyloo,” Drax shrugged.

“Drax, Vyloos don’t have lips,” Gamora reminded him.

Drax nodded gravely. “Exactly.”

They followed him back up to the cockpit, their hearts racing as they approached the dashboard window. There, they saw a far smaller, but no less intimidating Sanctuary spacecraft, pitch-black in color and skeletal-like in appearance. “Well, he isn’t exactly hiding,” Peter commented confusedly.

“Hard to cloak a ship of that size. Besides...he wants to be seen.” Gamora looked around at the others. “Well...into positions, everyone. You know what to do. What needs to be done. We’ve been practicing for this one day that will determine the rest of our lives. Let’s finish this.” They all nodded sharply, dispersing to their respective stations. She then turned again, this time to look at Peter. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

He bit his lip to stop himself from asking her to stay. “Be safe, _all_ of you. And...come back to me, okay?”

“Of course.” She pecked him gently on the nose before stepping back, gesturing for her companions to follow her to the loading bay. Peter watched her leave, wishing he could go with her, before finally turning and heading the opposite direction.

* * *

“I am _Gro-o-ot_.”

“I know you don’t got a lot of room, but they don’t exactly build these things for trees!” Rocket snapped. “Quiet, I see one of ‘em coming up on our radar now. I hope it’s that pointy bastard. He always _did_ look at you funny.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed, awkwardly readjusting his limbs.

Rocket and Groot were crammed in one of the Milano’s tiny escape pods, circling the underbelly of the new Sanctuary ship. While Groot seemed about as unconcerned as he always was, Rocket was trying his best not to look completely terrified. He’d spent the first couple years of his short life getting poked and prodded by scientists on Halfworld, and after escaping, he was eventually thrown into prison for petty crimes, where he met Groot. Thanos then snatched up both of them with the intent to turn them into machines like his children. Luckily, Gamora had taken a shine to them and insisted they work under her instead, and they were forever grateful for it. As much bravado as Rocket put on, he was still just as scared of Thanos as any other sane being.

“Aw, crap, it really is ol’ spearhead,” Rocket crowed delightedly, narrowing his eyes at the tiny screen. “Ready to board?”

“I am Groot,” Groot shrugged.

Rocket exited the pod first, shimmying his way through an external vent to get inside the ship. He made quick work of the security system to open the hangar door for Groot, nervously glancing over his shoulder for any signs of Thanos’s soldiers. He could hear them in the distance through the door on the opposite side of the hangar, suiting up for the impending battle that would hopefully be over before it ever begun. Groot lumbered in, watching in mild fascination as Rocket continued to reprogram the ship’s security. “What’re you standin’ around for? Go deal with those jokers before they come in here and see me,” Rocket exclaimed.

Nodding obediently, Groot walked to the other door and pressed himself against it, listening to the sounds of soldiers putting on their armor and grabbing their weapons from the cache. Then, he heard a voice ring out above them all, barking at them to move faster. “Are you children of Thanos, or just _children_? Your lack of discipline disappoints me. It will disappoint _him_. We are to land on Terra in a matter of hours, and you loiter and gossip and drag your feet. The next one to rattle their chestplate will get my glaive through their skull!”

Groot extended the tips of his fingers until the ends were needle-thin, sliding them through the crack underneath the door. Furrowing his brow in effort, he wriggled his branches around, grinning victoriously at the first cry of pain. He continued to hum cheerfully to himself as he went on to impale as many soldiers as he could find - and considering how densely packed the Outrider army was, it was easily in the hundreds. Their commander became increasingly agitated, pacing around the room angrily to find the source.

Without warning, the doors suddenly shot open. Groot nearly tumbled over his own feet as he quickly withdrew his branches, only to find himself staring into the face of Corvus Glaive. “I am Groot?” he whimpered.

“Hang on!” In a matter of seconds, Rocket whipped the blaster off his back and shot Corvus right in the chest, sending him flying backward and knocking over more of his soldiers along the way. “Great idea, poor execution, man. You gotta _start_ with that asshole!”

Shrugging, Groot advanced into the other room so he could kill the last few soldiers he’d missed, struggling on the floor next to their companions. Just as he turned around to join Rocket in the hangar again, he was suddenly struck on the head and knocked down.

“How dare you!” Corvus was now stood over him, holding his signature weapon to Groot’s head. “You were a lieutenant of Thanos! He spared your life so you could serve in his name..and you dishonor him. You are a traitor to the Titan name, turning your back on us for that damned daughter of his!”

“I am Groot!” Groot growled, struggling to his feet.

“Yeah, don’t you dare talk about Gam like that!” Rocket looked away from the security console, watching helplessly as Corvus took another swing at Groot, who blocked it with his arm. It rapidly turned into a sparring match, Corvus pinning Groot down and attempting to stab him, only for Groot to wrap his vines around Corvus’s neck and nearly choke him out. Corvus then sliced through the vines, causing Groot to cry out in pain before roaring in anger instead, flinging Corvus into a wall. His ears flattening against his head in worry, Rocket continued working on unlocking all the external doors. He was itching to use his gun again, but they were in close combat, and he didn’t want to risk hitting Groot.

Corvus struck Groot in the stomach with the back end of his weapon, causing him to double over. He then pressed the tip of it flat against the back of Groot’s head to pin him down, bringing him to his knees. “Any last words, tree?”

“I...am...Groot.” Multiple projectiles of razor-sharp tree bark flew from the top of Groot’s head, piercing Corvus’s face and eyes. He let out an agonized shout of pain, stumbling backward. Groot stood again, yanked the glaive out of the commander’s hands, before driving it straight into Corvus’s heart. He finally collapsed and went still.

Groot turned to look at Rocket, grinning at him rather goofily. Rocket couldn’t help but smile back in pride. “Alright, that was pretty awesome. One down, three to go.” He cycled through the security cameras, landing on one particular corridor. “You’re up, Quill.” 

* * *

“Do you intend to remain married to Gamora?”

Peter turned on his heel from his crouched position to stare at Drax incredulously. “Dude, now really isn’t the time!”

“Well, when else should we discuss it? You will probably die taking on the Children of Thanos,” Drax pointed out.

“If you think I’m gonna die, then why does it matter?” Peter exclaimed.

“It was a hypothetical question. You Terrans are so sensitive,” Drax said airily. “So, do you?”

“Why’d I get stuck with _you_?” Peter mumbled to himself, turning back around. They were sneaking into one of the engine rooms that they had accessed via the garbage chute, which had thankfully been emptied out before they came in. Still, Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to count his blessings just yet. _Thump. Thump_. “Uh, what was that?”

“He is here,” Drax murmured.

“Who, Thanos?”

“No...him.”

An impressively large figure dropped out of nowhere and landed in front of them, the steel floor creaking beneath his feet. He was at least twelve feet tall, built like a sizable tank, and in Peter’s blinding fear, all he could think about was how _ugly_ he was, with his horned head and chin, brandishing a large hammer. He grunted in some alien language even their translators couldn’t pick up, before taking a swing at them.

Yelping, Peter threw himself to the ground immediately, while Drax reached for his blade and went charging, throwing himself at Cull Obsidian and wrapping his arms around the back of his neck. Cull stumbled slightly, swatting at Drax in an attempt to shake him off, but Drax’s grip was relentless.

Gasping in shock, Peter reached a shaking hand to press the button behind his ear. The mask assembled itself over his face, allowing him to steady his breath as he got to his feet, watching as Cull went crashing through several ship engines, setting off an alarm and multiple streams of smoke, filling the room rapidly with a foul, oily stench. Drax, hazy from the smoke, lost his grip on Cull’s shoulders, sliding off and falling at Cull’s feet. Cull turned around to look at him, a toothy smirk on his face, and lifted his hammer over his head.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Peter went soaring through the air, flipping around unintentionally in an attempt to stabilize his jets, before leveling out. He activated his blasters, unleashing shot after shot on Cull’s head. He roared in agony, covering his eyes as the brightness of the gunfire nearly blinded him. Cull swung his arms around wildly, clipping Peter’s ankle and sending him crashing to the ground. “ _Ow_! Not cool, asshole!”

The alarm continued to blare around them, accompanied by a flashing red light that barely through the thick smoke. Peter crawled over to Drax, yanking a small disc from the latter’s belt and slapping it on his back, a clear film enveloping his entire body. Drax noisily inhaled a lungful of clean air once the suit had sealed over him. “Quill...you’re still alive!”

“Yeah, well, the big bastard might be able to breathe, but he can’t see through all of this smoke. I’ve got a plan,” Peter said, watching as Cull continued to stumble, swinging his hammer at random.

“Is it any good?” Drax stared at him intently.

“I - if it wasn’t, would I have brought it up?” Drax continued to look at him patronizingly. “Okay, fine, I see your point. But just trust me, okay? I need you to stand over by that wall, hold onto that rail, and take this thing.”

Drax’s eyes widened as he took the small, gun-like device from Peter. “This is Rocket’s. How did you - ”

“We don’t got time for questions, dude, it’s time for action.” Peter grinned widely. “Now hurry up and move before the Big Fugly Giant finds us first!”

Cull growled under his breath as he made slow, lumbering paces around the room. He was far too big to move particularly quickly, but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in size. However, it was his high vantage point that made him overlook Peter as he crawled closer, unhooking one of his jet boosters and clipping it onto Cull’s ankle.

He glanced down in mild confusion at the sensation of movement around his feet. Peter popped his head up through the smoke, wiggling his fingers cheerfully, right as he activated the booster. Cull went flying, banging around between the generators like a pinball machine before crashing through the side of the ship and helplessly tumbling out into space, letting out one last distressed cry. Instantly, the vacuum of space began sucking everything outwards, including the smoke, and Peter grappled for the nearest rail. “ _Now, Drax_!”

Drax roared in pain as he desperately anchored himself to what little wall space was left, aiming the nanobot welder at the growing gap in the ship’s side, the metal rapidly rematerializing and repairing itself. After a few terrifying moments passed, when the last of the wall had been sealed up, he collapsed to the ground as the whistling winds finally stopped, panting. “That...was awesome!” he exclaimed.

“And don’t forget, it was all my idea.” Peter deactivated his mask just so he could grin widely at Drax, who didn’t seem too bothered, only letting out a hearty laugh in response.

* * *

“Do not worry, lost one. You have been found, and by one of the Children of Thanos, no less. Soon, you will feel no pain, no anger, no resentment. Only peace...as I bring you salvation.”

Yondu struggled against the crumbled stone pinning him against the wall in a futile attempt to free his arrow, but even the arrow was bound too tightly to move. He’d been making his way through the ship when he was suddenly ambushed by Outriders and dragged into an empty room, with no indication of where he was. “You really believe that nonsense, ugly?”

“Your attempts to insult me may charm others, but they’re utterly wasted on me. I care nothing for your words _or_ your wit.” Ebony Maw stepped closer, observing Yondu with an unsettling grin. “You protect the boy...the one who married Thanos’s traitorous daughter?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” Yondu spat.

“His powers, his _potential_ , was limitless, and yet his father absolutely _wasted_ the opportunity. The boy would have flourished under Thanos’s teachings,” Ebony simpered, circling him.

“I know Quill would rather _die_ than serve that bastard,” Yondu growled. “So you gonna kill me or what?”

“No, not yet. I can be very patient, you see,” Ebony replied. He took a step back, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah? And what’re you waitin’ for?”

“Your children.” Yondu’s face fell. “They are, after all, _your_ children, aren’t they? Not by blood, perhaps, but by the way in which your blood courses through your veins. Your _heart_. You served your Celestial master for years, but you protect them for their well-being, not for his.”

“You leave those kids alone,” Yondu hissed. “And ‘sides, I don’t think you want ‘em near you, anyways.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Ebony said tauntingly.

Before Yondu could reply, a blast of light blew the wall inwards, sending both he and Ebony crumbling to the floor. Mantis stepped over the rubble and promptly pinned Ebony down, narrowing her eyes at his terrified visage. “ _Sleep_.” He let out a helpless whimper, his eyes sliding closed. His head slumped against the floor.

Yondu sat up with a groan. “You got scary good timing, girl. Wasn’t sure how much longer I could stall.”

“I could tell you were getting bored,” Mantis said airily. “He talks so much, but says very little.”

“I was noddin’ off at the end,” Yondu agreed. “You mind?” Mantis lifted a hand from Ebony’s temples to blast away the thick sediment built around Yondu’s body. “Thanks. So...you gonna make ‘im sleep for real or what?”

Mantis’s eyes watered. “I...I can’t. I am already scared of my newly discovered powers. I do not want to use them for murder, even on a man as horrible as him.”

Yondu knelt beside her and squeezed her shoulder. “I understand. Let me take care of it for you. You jus’ look away, okay?” Swallowing thickly, Mantis turned her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Yondu drew his arrow, and in one fluid motion, drove it clean through Ebony’s brain, his body convulsing one last time before going permanently still.

Mantis choked out a quiet sob as she released him. “Thank you, Yondu,” she whispered, curling into his side.

“Of course.” Yondu awkwardly patted the back of her head as she laid her head to rest against his shoulder. “Y’know, I didn’t want to be a killer, neither, but those Kree slave traders...they’re nasty folk. Don’t give a damn about nobody unless they can fight. It was kill or be killed. So I fought. And I killed. But you get a choice. You’re makin’ the right one.” Mantis smiled weakly at him, nodding silently. “Now c’mon, you gotta get up and help ‘em finish the job. No one else can do this but you.”

* * *

The first thing Gamora saw as she rounded the corner was Corvus’s body, laid out among his soldiers, loyal to the very end. The second was Proxima Midnight, approaching from the opposite end of the hangar with wide eyes. Gamora nervously glanced around to make sure Rocket and Groot were long gone before stepping forward to make her presence known.

“You will pay for his death...the deaths of _our_ brothers.” Proxima was so quiet that Gamora barely heard her. She knelt at Corvus’s head. “How do you live with yourself, Gamora?”

“I don’t. I have others. People I care about...people who care about me,” Gamora replied. “Your love for ‘our’ brothers was misplaced. All you wanted was for their strength and their cleverness to be on par with yours.”

“Not Corvus, no,” Proxima murmured, stroking his cheekbone. “He was special. He was mine.” Gamora was uncomfortably reminded of herself not twenty-four hours ago, in that tiny little tent, by Peter’s side.

“As touching as this is, you know what I’m here for.” Gamora held up her hands in surrender. “Please, sister. It doesn’t have to be like this. Nebula and I seek forgiveness, but we also seek opportunity. Opportunity to do what’s right. I don’t have to kill you.”

“Kill me?” Proxima scoffed. “You think because Thanos favored you, it makes you the most powerful of his Children?” She got to her feet, absolutely towering over Gamora. “It was always Father’s biggest flaw, deciding _you_ were his precious little girl. I remember the day we picked you up, and still, I can never understand why he found you so special. You were scrawny, overemotional, _weak_. You still are.”

“I may be the smallest of the Children, yes. And overemotional? Perhaps. But _weak_? Don’t insult me,” Gamora shot back. “Could I have gotten this far if I was weak? Destroyed a planet, killed ‘our’ brothers, come all this way to kill Thanos, if I was _weak_? I think you don’t know the meaning of the word. Please...join us.”

“Only a weak, spoiled brat would beg,” Proxima snarled. “Only a weak person would go _begging_ for allies far more powerful than she. You hide behind your husband, Gamora.”

“Does it look like I’m hiding? Because I don’t see him anywhere. I see _you_ , weeping over yours.”

“Father already laid out your precious Quill’s body on the floor. The only difference is that he survived,” Proxima hissed. “ _My_ husband is dead because of you. Our brothers gone. The Titan regime is being brought to its knees.”

“Which is why I’m extending my hand.” Gamora held hers out. “Please.”

Proxima fully turned away to look back at Corvus. “Father always chose you over everyone else no matter what. Believed in you no matter how often you failed. That should have been me. I was his first daughter. I never talked back. I trained without sleep, without food. I did things that you wouldn’t _dare_ do, all for him!” she shouted. “It will be my pleasure to finally kill you. To take what should have been mine!”

With a mighty cry, Proxima leaped in the air, bringing her bladed staff crashing down. Gamora rolled away just in time, drawing her sword and slicing it clean across Proxima’s shoulder blades. Proxima growled, turning on her heel and striking Gamora in the stomach with the blunt end of her weapon.

Gamora fell to the floor, lifting her sword up in defense. “It took me far too long to realize what Father had done to you. To Nebula, to everyone else, in his misplaced faith in me. I wish I could do something. I’m _trying_ to do something. It doesn’t have to be like this. Help me stop him, sister.”

“You always preferred Nebula, didn’t you?” Proxima sneered. “You liked having her around because Father hated her most. She made you look perfect. Once I kill you..she’ll be next.” She kicked Gamora’s sword out of her grasp, drawing her blade high. “I’ll tell her you failed. You, and you alone.”

“I’m sorry!” Gamora cried. Proxima hesitated, staring down at Gamora in disbelief. “Proxima, I’m sorry. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the day Thanos took me. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t fought so hard to find my mother, because maybe, I would have died with her instead. And I wouldn’t be the cause of all this pain. Of yours, of our siblings, of the countless victims who had the misfortune of meeting me.” A tear rolled down Gamora’s cheek. “All I want...all I ever want...is to be good. To make up for my mistakes. I can’t sit back, and...and watch as Thanos destroys the universe. Can you?”

“You think I’m sentimental. But you know I stand by Father’s mission,” Proxima said, though she hesitated.

“You mourn Corvus’s death, the way I thought I was going to have to mourn Peter’s,” Gamora said with a watery smile. “You wanted Thanos’s approval, his attention. You are just as driven by emotion as any other, sister. Tell me otherwise.”

“You’re trying to appeal to a nature that does not exist. You seek your reflection in my personage, but won’t find it there.” Proxima gritted her teeth. “Don’t waste your last breath.”

Staring up at her sister with watery eyes, Gamora shook her head vehemently, taking a shaky breath as Proxima brought her staff down on her chest. At the last second, Gamora caught the blade with a determined cry, gripping it so tightly that it sliced her palms, drawing blood. In one fluid motion, she yanked it backward for leverage before shoving the blunt end right in Proxima’s stomach, knocking her onto her back.

Gamora got to her feet, flipping the staff around so the blade was now in Proxima’s face. “I’ll let you go if you leave now.”

“I’m no coward,” Proxima spat, reaching for Gamora’s sword, but Gamora merely knocked her arm aside, pressing the back end of the blade against Proxima’s throat, her foot coming to rest on Proxima’s shoulder, the other on her wrist. Proxima struggled, but to no avail. “You’re going to kill me, _sister_?”

“I wish I didn’t have to.” Gamora’s voice shook. “But, as has been the case for almost my entire life...I have no choice.” She slowly pushed the blade in. “I will bury you and Corvus side-by-side. I promise.” Proxima let out an awful, wet noise as Gamora withdrew the weapon before finally falling still. Gamora straightened up, tossing the staff aside as she swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

Gamora’s breath trembled as she entered the throne room. It wasn’t as large as the one on the original Sanctuary, but it was still just as cold and damp and unforgiving. Thanos was stood with his back turned to her, slowly rotating on his heel to stare at her forlornly.

“You’ve killed the Children. You recruited the armies of the Nine Realms and killed every last soldier I’ve ever had. All I can do now is ask - _why_ , daughter?”

“If you have to ask, then you still don’t understand,” Gamora said. “After all this time, you still don’t understand what you’ve done. To me. To civilizations across the universe. To little boys and girls who lost their homes, their families, their _lives_.” Her voice grew stronger, her chin held higher. “I see you haven’t acquired any Infinity Stones since our last encounter.”

“The Mind and Time Stones are on Terra. And the Soul Stone...without you, I have no way of getting it.”

“Oh, stop,” Gamora spat. “It was bad enough to force my loyalty, but to demand my pity? You must be truly desperate if you think you can win me back with false tears. I have waited years for this moment. The moment where you realize that your twisted idea of destiny ends here, where you stop tormenting and pillaging and _killing_ because you think yourself above all. You are no god, Thanos. You are a child. You love nothing. And no one loves you. You control nothing, wield _no_ power, have _nothing_ left. Do you not see, Father? You’ve lost.”

“And you’ve felt this way the entire time.” It wasn’t a question. Thanos sank into the throne, staring at her intently, his eyes wet.

“From the moment we met. Everything that has gone wrong in my life is because of you. Everything I hate about myself is because of you.” Gamora unsheathed her sword, pressing its tip into the underside of his chin. “I wish to care about myself again. To love myself as I should. What do you say to that?”

“I say…” He trailed off, almost hesitant, before suddenly lunging forward and grabbing her by the throat, hoisting Gamora up in the air. Her sword fell to the ground. “Come out, Nebula!” he shouted as Gamora gasped for breath. “I know you’re here! _Show yourself_!”

Nebula emerged from the shadows. She wore the Infinity Gauntlet on her relatively slender arm, trying not to struggle with its sizable weight. “Father. How disappointed you must be that I’m one of your only daughters left,” she sneered. “You let Gamora go.”

“You were always the weakest of my children. You tried so hard to please me, to impress me. But all you ever did was _fail_ me,” Thanos growled. “Even now, your cracks start to show. You don’t have the strength to wield such a weapon. And you don’t have the courage to use it against me.”

“You know nothing of courage,” Nebula hissed. “You hide behind armies. You recruit children to fight on your behalf. Did you know, _Father_ , that I don’t remember my family? I don’t remember where I was born, or who my friends were, or what I learned in school. Because you pulled my eyes from my head...my limbs from my body...and my brain from my skull. You tore me apart, piece by piece, because I could never live up to your expectations. I grew cold, and quiet, and reclusive. You think me weak for crying through every surgery, but I always came back stronger. I came back with nothing but unceasing pain, unyielding anger, and a hunger to kill you.”

“You both disappoint me.” Thanos shook Gamora violently. “Do you hear that, little one? You _disappoint_ me!”

“Face it, Father,” Nebula snarled. “It’s over. This is your end.”

“Then it will be hers as well!” Thanos swung Gamora over his head with a mighty roar. Another shadowy figure dropped from the ceiling, digging into Thanos’s temples so deeply that he began to bleed.

“Sleep.”

Gamora only just managed to land on her feet when Thanos dropped her, swaying precariously on the spot as Mantis held on tight. She moved to pick up her sword, still struggling to find her breath. “Wait, Gamora.” Nebula held out her hand. “Your sword will do him no harm. It isn’t strong enough.”

“Nebula...don’t,” Gamora said warily. “Let me.”

“Hurry,” Mantis cried. She was losing her balance. “I cannot hold him for very long this time. His emotions are too strong!”

“You heard her,” Nebula said quietly. “I must. And if this is my end...then know I am glad to have spent the worst years of my life by your side.” Before Gamora could stop her, Nebula broke into a sprint. Gamora cried out in horror, watching as her sister practically soared through the air, bringing the Gauntlet down on Thanos’s head, right as Mantis jumped out of the way.

Thanos screamed, something guttural and raw and tortured, as the Power Stone exploded in a flurry of light the second it made contact with his skin. It filled the room with a thick, richly-purple fog so blinding that Gamora and Mantis had to shield their eyes, burying their faces in their elbows as they flattened themselves against the floor. Nebula answered with a warrior’s cry of her own, holding tight as she buried him into the ground, the sheer weight of the Gauntlet crushing his skull. The seconds seemingly dragged on forever as the haze grew thicker and thicker, and Thanos shouted and thrashed about, spitting in Nebula’s face, when finally, the light came swirling back towards them, funneling back into what remained of the Power Stone. The fog lifted, and there, Nebula collapsed by Thanos’s still body.

“ _Nebula_!” Gamora and Mantis sprinted towards her in desperation. Mantis immediately propped up Nebula’s head onto her lap, resting her fingers on her temples. There was a heartbeat of stilted breath, and then, Nebula blinked awake, her inky black eyes unusually dazed. She looked concussed, a little burnt, but for the most part, _alive_. The Gauntlet was crumpled into a mangled metal mess around her robotic arm, the Stones nearly reduced to dust. With a shrug, Nebula detached her arm like it was just another day.

“Looks like I need a new hand,” Nebula said hoarsely. Gamora let out a sob of relief, lifting her sister into her embrace and burying her face into Nebula’s neck.

“Nebula...don’t you _ever_ do that again,” Gamora wept.

“Stop telling me what to do,” Nebula drawled, but she sank into the hug, too exhausted to resist. “Sister...Thanos is dead. We did it.”

“We did, Nebula, we did,” Gamora cried, pulling away. She turned towards Mantis, clasping her hand. “Let’s call the others. Tell them it’s over. Tell them...tell them we’re free.” 

* * *

“Steady, boy.” Yondu clapped Peter on the shoulder. “They’re gonna be jus’ fine. You shoulda seen Mantis back there. Force t’ be reckoned with.”

“Why’d we send ‘em in there alone?” Peter groaned into his hands. They were sitting in the cockpit with the others, waiting with bated breath. It had been an hour since Yondu had departed Sanctuary and returned to the Milano, an hour since they watched the last of the Outrider ships blow to pieces, courtesy of the Nine Realms’ armies, before they ever broke Earth’s atmosphere. As far as the Terrans knew, they were never in danger. “Should we call them? Or maybe go back and - ”

“It’d be riskin’ their lives, Pete,” Kraglin chimed in. “Them girls are real powerful, more’n us. They’ll be fine.”

Still, Rocket’s ears were flat against his head, Drax couldn’t stop twirling with his remaining blade, and even Groot looked uncertain. Peter fiddled with the dials on his blasters just so he could have something to do with his hands. The only sounds that cut through the tense silence were the ship engine’s hum and everyone’s uncomfortable coughs as time continued to pass.

Then, a _clank_ , the telltale sound of a pod docking below, echoed through the cabin. Peter was the first to his feet, and they all scrambled down the ladder, practically climbing over each other in their haste. Mantis emerged first, immediately pulling Peter and Yondu into a relieved, weepy embrace. Nebula limped in next, cradling the shattered Gauntlet in her one arm. Groot stepped forward to receive her, patting her kindly on the back before relieving her of the weapon. He then offered her a daisy and a goofy smile, to which she begrudgingly accepted both, allowing him to guide her into a chair.

And finally, Gamora. Mantis knowingly let go of Peter and stepped aside. Peter stopped to stare for a moment - unsurprisingly, she was in even worse shape than when they parted, with deeper strangulation marks, a split lip, and an abundance of wounds and scrapes. But she was beautiful, and she was brave, and she was here.

Once he stirred out of his fervor, Peter stepped forward to immediately sweep Gamora up into his arms, lifting her clean off the floor. She let out a surprised but happy cry as he set her down, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We did it, Peter. All of us.”

“We did the impossible,” Peter agreed with a watery laugh. “You made it back. _All_ of you.”

“It feels like a dream,” Gamora admitted. “I fear we’ll wake up tomorrow and have to do it all over again.” She smiled something bittersweet. “So what should we do now?”

“You tellin’ me you don’t already have a million plans running through that head of yours?” Peter teased.

“Oh, I do, I just want to know what’s on your mind,” Gamora said, chuckling. “Something good, I hope.”

He hummed in consideration, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he directed them back towards the others. “Well, there is _one_ thing we definitely need to do…”

* * *

Peter woke to the sound of restless, rustling sheets beside him, like someone was turning over and over in their sleep. He blinked into the blinding morning light as it streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, the shades automatically rolling back to greet the sun and the Xandarian cityscape. He glanced back down at the pillow opposite him, mostly concealed by a head of dark red hair. “Morning.”

Gamora rolled over, her expression extraordinarily gentle. “Oh, morning, Peter. Did I wake you?”

“Sorta, but that’s okay. Think I’ve had my fill of sleep,” he replied, stretching luxuriously. The bed wasn’t quite as big or as soft as the one he had in the palace, but it was still impressive. “Another day, another fifty _million_ meetings. I mean, how many times can we talk about all the crap that went down? It’s been over a month now!”

“Necessary in our new line of work.” Gamora reached across to grab the Walkman from Peter’s bedside table and began playing with the controls. “We’re only here temporarily, and once we get what we came for, we’ll have our adventures. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried, just anxious to get going, I guess.” Peter cupped her face for a moment before sliding his hand into her hair, slowly running his fingers through it to detangle the knots that had formed during the night. She smiled at him gratefully before returning to her task. “Y’know, Nova Prime cornered me after that charity dinner the other night.”

Gamora hummed absent-mindedly. “And what did she want?”

“She wanted to know if we were planning on having kids,” Peter said casually. Gamora nearly dropped the Walkman in shock.

“What? They’re _still_ asking about that?”

“Right? And I said, ‘I dunno, Nova Prime, Gamora said something about divorce the other day’,” he teased.

She scowled. “Peter, I said that _months_ ago. The only time I ever mentioned divorce was literally minutes after our wedding ceremony. We’d known each other for _ten_ days!”

“So you’re saying you _don’t_ wanna get divorced?” Peter blinked innocently. Gamora didn’t look impressed.

“If you’re so insistent, I suppose we could go ask for the papers right now,” Gamora huffed, sitting up as if to get out of bed. Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him, flush against his front. He reached over to press play on the Walkman.

_Girl, you are to me...all that a woman should be...and I dedicate my life to you always..._

“I was actually thinking we could have a _real_ wedding. Something small, just you, me, and our friends. Then we can say vows we _actually_ mean,” he suggested.

Gamora tilted her head in consideration. “In marriage, I promise to remain steadfast and unwavering, to keep you full of joy and laughter, and to protect you in the ways that only a warrior can - with everything that I have.” She smiled. “My vows still ring true. Don’t yours?”

_The love like yours is grand...it must have been sent from up above...and I know you'll stay this way, for always..._

Peter’s heart thrilled in knowing Gamora still remembered her words for him, as empty as they had felt at the time. Admittedly, he could barely remember his. “Loyal, faithful, something about being your guiding star?”

_And we both know...that our love will grow...and forever it will be you and me..._

“That’s right, Star-Lord,” Gamora teased. “It’s good to know you’re as committed to our marriage as I am.”

“Oh, I am _so_ committed,” Peter drawled. “Maybe we _should_ get divorced so we can get married again, that’s how committed I am.”

_Your life is sun...chasing all the rain away...when you come around, you bring a brighter day..._

“You’re so strange, Peter Quill,” Gamora sighed, leaning in to kiss him. “But I love you regardless. No, wait...I love you _because_ you are so odd, and so sweet, and so wonderfully strange. I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too,” Peter said joyfully, the music swelling in perfect time as they kissed.

_You're the perfect one...for me and you forever will be...and I will love you so, for always..._

* * *

The doors swung open, a hush falling over the crowd. Gamora strolled into the room, flanked by Drax and Nebula, followed by Groot and Rocket, her cape sweeping at her ankles. Unlike other silences that followed her presence - the kind that told her everyone was afraid of her - it was one of respect. Everyone bowed their heads briefly in her direction, some even giving her a friendly smile.

Gamora took her seat beside Nova Prime, the rest of her entourage taking their positions behind her. She noted the seat on her other side was still empty. The room returned to small talk and quiet chatter, while Nova Prime smiled kindly in greeting. “He’s on his way, I presume?”

“My husband has many fine qualities, but punctuality isn’t one of them,” Gamora admitted with a soft laugh. “Thank you for inviting us to sit in on the council meeting today. You pardoning our crimes was already more than we could ask for.”

“I told you I believed in you,” Nova Prime said firmly. “And I’m never wrong.”

Gamora smiled. “I promise, you’ve put your faith in the right people. We have plenty of ideas, ones that we’d like to - ”

Before she could finish her sentence, the door slammed into the wall, startling everyone. Peter came barreling in, hefting large paper boxes. Mantis and Yondu hurried in after him, taking their place by the others. “Sorry I’m late!” he exclaimed, jogging over to his seat. He set the boxes down on the table and leaned over to quickly kiss a bemused Gamora. “Hi, honey - I just thought I’d bring some snacks for everyone since we’re gonna be here a while.”

“Of course, thank you for offering,” Nova Prime chuckled. Peter began passing around the boxes of Xandarian pastries. “Have a seat, and we can begin.”

“Right,” he said, still out of breath as he settled in beside Gamora.

“Shall we proceed?” Denarian Saal drawled from beside Nova Prime.

“Yes, can I get everyone’s attention, please? Calling the Council to order.” Nova Prime activated the hologram table in the middle of the room, displaying a slowly rotating Earth. “Today, we’re here to discuss our future involvement in primitive planets, those largely unaware of other life. I have personally invited the former Princess Gamora of the Titans and the former Prince Peter of the Celestials to sit in our meeting today, seeing as they executed their respective fathers before either could carry out their intentions of galaxy-wide genocide, and prevented the destruction of Prince Peter’s planet of origin, Terra. They have also been given new honorary designations within the ranks of the Nova Corps for their outstanding teamwork and unparalleled bravery. General, if you will brief the room?”

“Thank you, Nova Prime,” Gamora said, bowing her head. “Council, we would like to take part in the discussion of future dealings with planets like Terra, yes, but we would also like to discuss the futures of what remains of the Celestial population. They are currently taking refuge on Asgard, but we’ve been informed by a reliable source that Asgard is in danger of falling, and may not be able to take care of them for much longer. We need a sound strategy for both assisting the Celestial refugees, and a way to prevent Asgard from undergoing what they call ‘Ragnarok’.”

“That’s very well and good, General Gamora, but Asgard is not formally recognized as a nation under the protection of the Nova Corps,” one of the senators interjected. “The Nine Realms are protected by the All-Father.”

“Yes, and we’ve heard talk of his failing health,” Gamora replied, folding her arms neatly across the table. “His youngest son has undergone great trauma recently, torture by my...by Thanos’s hand. His other son, his heir, spends more time on Terra than he does ruling by his side. And his wife was killed in a recent invasion. You can see why the All-Father is doing poorly.”

“What are you proposing, exactly?” another senator asked.

“I was hoping for open discussion between us all. Our priority is taking care of the Celestial refugees, but it doesn’t mean we have all the answers,” Gamora said. “We have other ambitions to attend to.”

“And what are they, General? You and your...team can’t exactly go around the galaxy unsanctioned.”

“In short, we’d like to carry on doing what we were doing,” Peter said with a shrug. “We want to travel and help people along the way.”

“That seems fairly vague, Mister…?”

Peter blinked. “You don’t know who I am? I...of course you don’t,” he muttered under his breath. “You can call me Captain Quill. Or Star-Lord. Whichever sounds cooler.” Gamora internally groaned.

“Well, _Captain_ , you can’t simply just wander and intervene in serious matters whenever you feel like it. There are laws, and warrants, and liabilities should something go wrong. If all you have to offer is a small team of misfits with no experience or training, then there are plenty of ‘do-gooders’ in prison you should have talked to first before you came here today, see how it worked for _them_ ,” one councilman said snidely.

“Watch yourself, Councilman,” Nova Prime frowned. “They came here with good intentions, there’s no need for hostility. I will say though, General, Captain, that I was hoping for something more succinct. Saying you wish to continue helping people doesn’t mean it will actually happen without consequence. We can discuss this further another day, let’s say, in a few weeks?”

Peter and Gamora exchanged defeated looks. It looked like another month on Xandar was inevitable. “Of course, Nova Prime,” Gamora said politely. “Now, as for the future interference of the Nova Corps for primitive planets…” 

* * *

“Peter?” At the sound of her voice, he instantly perked up, turning around to watch as Gamora stepped off the ladder into the cockpit. “Thought I would find you here. May I join you?”

“Yeah, of course.” He gestured for her to take a seat opposite him. “So...I don’t think the Council is liking us as much as I thought they would.”

“I suppose to them, we sound like nothing more than another ambiguous faction of government-funded programs that ultimately go nowhere,” Gamora sighed, sinking into the co-pilot’s chair. “We need a more upfront proposal, or they’ll never let us function the way we want to. We need proper goals, a real timeline.”

“There never was a goal _or_ a timeline,” Peter protested. “I just...we wanted to travel the galaxy with our friends, help some people out along the way. Now, it’s like we’re gonna be stuck here on Xandar forever. Is it time to look into buying a house or somethin’? Can we even _afford_ a house?”

“Maybe associating with the Nova Corps was the wrong idea.” Gamora glanced out the dashboard window, not that she would see anything interesting; the Milano was currently parked in an underground hangar. “We’ve been having these discussions for _weeks_ now, and they all end the same. We’re irresponsible children who simply got lucky. We’re still at high risk of doing something highly immoral and illegal. We - we don’t deserve our freedom.”

“They say all that crap ‘cause they’re trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t give in,” Peter said gently. “You’re stronger than that, Gamora. We deserve to be here, you more than any of us. Remember, this was all your idea. You came to me and asked me to help. And it changed our lives, it changed the _galaxy_ , for the better. Those assholes should be _begging_ you to be a part of the Corps.”

“We have to tread lightly,” Gamora said, smiling a little despite herself. “We could always withdraw from them entirely and make our own decisions, but then they might arrest us regardless. But these meetings, these talks, they’re going nowhere.”

“Well, they want real ideas? We write ‘em a _real_ proposal. An official document, telling them what _we_ wanna do.” Peter took her hand, intertwining their fingers together. “We’ll show up to important meetings, but we’ll remote in for everything else while we’re out traveling most of the time. We take missions, respond to distress calls that their giant fleets under jurisdiction can’t get to in time. We report to the Nova Corps, but we don’t answer to them. We could even have a really awesome team name, like…”

“Slow down, Peter, you’re talking so fast,” Gamora chuckled, patting him on the chest with her other hand. “And a team name? I hope you’re not thinking we _all_ need nicknames, Star-Lord.”

“Nah, not nicknames. But something really cool, something memorable. So people don’t think we’re just Nova Corps puppets,” Peter said thoughtfully.

Gamora hummed. “That other name your mother called you...Arcturus?”

“That sounds kinda...corporate,” Peter frowned. “It did have a bunch of other meanings, though…‘uplifted’...‘keeper’...‘guardian’...” He trailed off, suddenly leaping out of his seat. “Gamora, you’re a genius.”

“What do you - _oh_!” She let out a surprised cry as Peter kissed her rather sloppily on the mouth before racing off down the ladder to the Milano’s main level. “Where are you going?”  

“Back to headquarters, we’ve got a proposal to draft!” he shouted joyfully. “You joinin’ me?”

“Always,” Gamora smiled, following him down. 

* * *

Gamora took a deep breath. _Shoulders back, chin held high_ , she told herself, clasping her hands behind her back. Then she felt fingers gently dancing along her knuckles, slowly easing her hand open to tangle their fingers together. She glanced over at Peter, smiling softly at him as the doors opened.

They stepped into the room, taking their seats as they had been doing for weeks now, only this time, Nova Prime was seated among the Council at the table opposite them. “Good afternoon, Council. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Gamora said. “I’d like to start by stating our names for the record. I’m General Gamora of Zehoberei, formerly Princess Gamora of the Titans. This is my husband, Captain Quill of Terra, formerly known as Prince Peter of the Celestials. We have my sister, the former Princess Nebula of the Titans; my husband’s sister, the former Princess Mantis of the Celestials; my husband’s former advisor, Captain Udonta of the Ravager faction six-nine-one; my husband’s former head of guard, First Mate Obfonteri of the Ravager faction six-nine-one, and my former guards, Drax, Rocket, and Groot.”

“Yes, we know who you are,” one particularly bored-looking councilman sighed. “But _why_ are you here?”

“We have taken your suggestions into consideration and drawn up a formal proposal outlining our intentions as a group.” Gamora gestured for Peter to unearth the rather thick document from his knapsack and pass it to the Council. “We recognize that our...histories make us a risky investment. But we aren’t asking for money.” Rocket winced. “We’re asking for permission.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“We are requesting permission to travel the galaxy without an itinerary, and function as both a traveling embassy for the Celestial refugees and a peacekeeping force for others who need help,” Gamora explained. “It’s all outlined in our proposal. We will, of course, obey intergalactic law and planetary law, undergo whatever training and preparation that's required of us, but we want to operate independently.”

“Outside of the Nova Corps?” Nova Prime quirked an eyebrow.

“My wife and I accept responsibility for this team. We’ll make sure to have open lines of communication with the Nova Corps and come quietly if there’s ever any legal issues. We just don’t want to wait around for orders,” Peter replied. “The proposal details just about everything - correspondence, mission protocols, emergency responses, whatever else you might want to know. My wife was very thorough in addressing your every concern, I _guarantee_ it. But...if I can speak freely...we just wanna help save the world and have a good time doin’ it. Don’t we all?”

“We’ll need time to read your proposal, but let’s have a preliminary vote, Council,” Nova Prime said decisively. “Those in favor of moving forward with General Gamora and Captain Quill’s proposal, raise your hand.”

Gamora and Peter instinctively squeezed each other’s hands underneath the table as they waited with bated breath. Slowly, people began to raise their hands, some more enthusiastically than others. Nova Prime raised her hand, winking at them as she did.

“It seems you have the majority,” she announced. “We will read over the proposal in more detail, make amendments, and bring the revised version to you. The process will repeat until we can come to a final version we can all agree on, and then send you on your way. Does this arrangement suit you?”

“Yes, Nova Prime, thank you,” Gamora breathed gratefully. “And thank you, Council.”

“Good,” Nova Prime smiled. “Now, we’ll need to register a designation for your team. Do you have something in mind?”

Peter and Gamora glanced briefly over their shoulder at the others, some smiling encouragingly, others looking like their usual sullen selves. They couldn’t help but laugh in joy, relief, and nervous anticipation as they turned back to address the Council.

“You can call us the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end! First, some quick housekeeping notes - as mentioned before, Mantis's additional powers and the Priests of Pama come from her comic backstory. I also mentioned Peter's sister Victoria, who is also from the comics, though she doesn't have the Celestial powers as I described here. Lastly, Rocket and Groot's backstory of meeting in prison is also taken from the comics. The songs in this chapter are [To Know You Is to Love You](https://open.spotify.com/track/3gXO4EiIocjy58CbyE8ipW?si=umyZ3aEzRl2SOBQabKaHYQ) by Bobby Vinton, and [Always](https://open.spotify.com/track/2TQaMcc3BEAF5Srn7FCipl?si=w4DT031UT6q-JkiBCpPA_w) by Atlantic Starr.
> 
> As you can probably tell, this chapter completely got away from me! There were tons of other character conversations that I ultimately cut to prevent this from being 80% dialogue that wasn't super relevant to the plot, but I do wish I had managed to fit in here somehow. I don't see myself writing full one-shot continuations for this 'verse, as much as I absolutely adored exploring it, but if you mention it in a comment or send me an ask on tumblr, then I'll know there's some interest, and I would be happy to write a little drabble here and there!
> 
> My next fic will be starting very soon (two weeks from today) and will be posted weekly. If you're interested in knowing what it's about (and also the following three Peter/Gamora fics I have planned through to next May because this is apparently my life now), you can check out my [WIP page](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/WIP) on my tumblr!
> 
> And of course, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has read, kudoed, commented, liked, and reblogged this fic! With any fic, I'm always a little worried that the concept won't be interesting to anyone else but myself, so to not only know that people are reading it, but going to the effort of leaving such lovely comments, makes me so freaking happy. This 'verse of mine has been so much fun to explore and I'm so glad that y'all feel the same way. Thank you _so_ much for the support, and I hope to see you again in a future fic!


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